


A Caged Bird Sings

by CatherineAbandon



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Female Protagonist, Fluff, Have Faith He Will Figure It Out Eventually, Levi Doesn't Know How to Express His Feelings, Protective Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, That Poor Tortured Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 88,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatherineAbandon/pseuds/CatherineAbandon
Summary: Born to an impoverished, tragedy-stricken family in the Underground, a fateful encounter with Captain Levi means a life beneath the ground giving way to a new life in a different sort of cage. One by one, your family's secrets come to light, instilling in you an unquenchable thirst for freedom. But when the seeds of a tumultuous romance take root, you find your determination obstructed by the pain, frustration, and heartbreak sowed from a lifetime of loss.He says your name in a low voice. It sends chills down your spine. “I… “Your breath catches.“Call me Levi."You bite your lip and nod as tears prick the backs of your eyes.“All right then, Levi,” you whisper.
Relationships: Levi/Reader
Comments: 503
Kudos: 765





	1. Prologue

_Year 839_

“(Y/N), wake up.”

You’re dozing in a grassy field, where exactly you’re not sure. The bed you lie on is made of rich green grass, the roof over your head is an endless blue sky dotted with plump white clouds. The sun is just setting into a sea of pink and orange. You sigh and roll over, into a deeper sleep.

“(Y/N)!” comes your brother’s voice again. He puts a hand on your shoulder and shakes you awake.

Your eyes flutter open groggily and, much to your disappointment, you see not a blue sky and rolling green hills but the bleak gray walls of the cramped room you share with Kristoff. Grumpily, you turn over to face him.

“I was having that dream again. Thanks for ruining it.” You pout and pull the tattered blanket over your head.

Kristoff tugs it back down again.

“Seriously, (Y/N), get up! Mom’s gonna be furious if you’re not ready when they get here.”

You shoot up like a firecracker. “That’s right!” you exclaim.

Kristoff nods excitedly. “Today’s the day.”

Hurriedly, you get up from your mattress on the floor and pick up your dress from where you dropped it last night. The material is thin and worn in your hands, patched and repatched again and again, but clean enough. Kristoff, twelve years old and used to sharing such small quarters with his nine year old sister, turns his back to you in the only semblance of privacy either of you have ever known. You tug off the secondhand men’s shirt that serves as your nightgown, sleeves cut to the length of your arms, and replace it with the faded yellow dress.

“Good,” you say with a smile. Kristoff faces you again with bright eyes.

His energy is contagious. Your smile widens and you look on your brother fondly. He seems to be in the middle of a growth spurt; he’s even hungrier than usual and suddenly towering at least a head over you. His thick hair flops charmingly in his eyes and over his ears, his gangly, slightly-too-thin frame hides the fact that he can really run, and _fast_. This is a skill you and he share with many children in the Underground; you need to be quick to make it on these streets.

“Hey,” Kristoff says, his expression a bit more serious. “That dream you keep having? I bet it’ll be real someday. You’re too smart to spend your whole life in this garbage heap.”

You grin and puff out your chest. “I am pretty smart, aren’t I, Kris?”

He laughs.

“Kristoff, (Y/N),” your mom calls from the kitchen. “Let’s go.”

Kristoff rushes out of the bedroom as you quickly and roughly yank a comb through your long hair. Good enough, you decide, and chase after him.

The kitchen is hardly more impressive than the bedroom. There’s a rickety wooden table with four mismatched chairs, a water pump that constantly drips, a fireplace and chimney thick with soot, and one window too scratched and stained to let in any light. Not that there’s much light to be had — days in the Underground are always gray. 

Your mother sits at the bare table with Kristoff. Strands of limp, ash blonde hair fall loose from her bun. It occurs to you how the dark circles under her eyes are there no matter how much she sleeps. There’s never enough food to fill out her face, meaning her sharp cheekbones are prominent features. And, more than anything, you see the way she looks at you compared to the way she looks at Kristoff, her only son and greatest joy. Today especially there’s hope in her typically dull eyes when she turns to him.

No breakfast out means there’s no breakfast to be had. You learned at a young age not to even ask. Instead, you fill a chipped cup with water from the pump and bounce excitedly, wondering if Mom will acknowledge your eagerness on this paramount day.

After nearly as much time as your young memory can recall, your small family of three has finally saved enough loose change, sold off enough of your late father’s things, and gone without enough meals to buy Kristoff counterfeit citizenship papers for the surface. Your father, who died before Mom knew she was pregnant with you, apparently dreamt of seeing his son make a life for himself above ground in the walled territories ruled over by King Fritz. Mom decided somewhere along the way that the best way to do this was to get him phony papers and have him enlist in the military.

It’s not until much later in your life that you will look back on the lengths your mother went to to ensure a happy life for your brother. The way she clearly loved him and cherished him over you never stung quite as much as it did when you reached an age where you could reflect on your childhood with some perspective — she saw your father in Kristoff like she never did in you. 

As a child, however, you take what you can get from her without complaint.

Mom rewards you with a small smile and the happy anticipation in your stomach grows.

“(Y/N), you understand what’s happening for Kristoff today, don’t you?” she asks in a voice as thin and hollow as she is.

You nod eagerly, although the details are fuzzy in your childish mind.

Mom sighs and turns a warm gaze on Kristoff.

“I managed to find someone who can acquire papers for your brother. They’re coming by any minute now to drop them off and advise him on what to do next.”

Kristoff smiles and waggles his eyebrows at you playfully. You giggle into your cup.

A curt knock sounds at the door. The anticipation in the room heightens as Kristoff stands and Mom hurries to admit your guests.

Two young men are standing on the other side, one tall and fairly handsome with a kind, thoughtful face and dark blond hair. The other is short, dark haired and silver-eyed. His face is set in a stony mask. More than this, however, you’re struck by their clothes. Both are in high boots and somewhat new-looking shirts and trousers. You shift on your feet. Anyone in the Underground who can afford things like that, especially a decent pair of boots, means they’re good at what they do: thieving.

“Thank you for coming,” Mom says in her wispy voice. “Come in, have a seat.”

“Thank you,” says the tall one politely. The other stays silent as they make themselves comfortable at the table.

“I don’t think we met the other day,” Mom is saying to the short man as her and Kristoff sit. “I’m Erza and this is my son, Kristoff.”

Kristoff nods as he’s introduced. The man leans back into his chair with one arm thrown over the back and one leg crossed over the other.

“Levi,” is his only greeting.

“And who’s this?” the other man says amicably in your direction. “I’m Farlan.”

As if suddenly remembering you’re there, Mom unceremoniously reaches out to grab your sleeve and tug you to the table so you’re standing at her side.

“My daughter,” she says curtly. “(Y/N).”

You smile shyly, part of your face hidden by the water cup you still hold. Farlan smiles warmly while Levi gazes impassively at the worn but clean surface of the table.

“Shall we?” Farlan begins. 

His stern looking companion lifts his head to regard you with what can only be described as boredom. While it’s certainly intimidating, your instinct is to stick your tongue out at him and see if you can make him laugh. The gravity of this meeting is not lost on you, however, so you fight the urge and inch closer to Mom.

“Kristoff,” Farlan says, addressing your brother and pulling out a folded piece of paper. “Guard these with your life. Don’t consider yourself safe until you’re on the Cadet Corps training grounds. I don’t know what it’s like up there but I do know that the Military Police are out to get people like us. When you pass the toll, stand your ground and don’t give any indication that they’re fakes, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” says Kristoff. You wonder if he’s making a point to deepen his voice or if you’re only imagining it. 

He happily accepts the paper when Farlan holds it out and, after a moment, passes it off to Mom. You know she has no idea what they’re supposed to look like but you’re intuitive enough to realize she wants them to think she does; scams are as common in the Underground as dirt.

“Listen,” says Levi. His tone is dull and condescending. Your eyes narrow defensively but Kristoff doesn’t seem to take offense. “You’re just a shitty kid and you’ve got a long way to go on your own. Don’t be an idiot. Stay sharp and get the hell out of here.”

Somehow, Kristoff takes this as encouragement and nods determinedly. “Yes, sir,” he says again.

“Any questions?” asks Farlan, clearly unphased by Levi’s harsh demeanor.

Kristoff shakes his head as Mom reaches into the folds of her skirts and procures a patchwork coin purse. With some effort, as if parting with the money is physically taxing, she slides it across the table to Levi.

“That’s the rest of it,” she says resolutely.

Levi leans forward, planting both feet on the floor, to pick up the purse and weigh it in his hand before it disappears into his own pocket. He shoots Farlan a look that you interpret to mean the business is done. They both stand.

“Quick and painless, then,” says Farlan with a smile at Kristoff. “Good luck out there, kid.”

Levi is already opening the door when Mom and Kristoff stand to see them off.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Mom says in a voice that almost trembles.

Farlan smiles again. “It’s just business down here.” He meets your eye as you set down your cup at last. “Hey, (Y/N), maybe you’re next.”

With that he steps outside and a new excitement swells inside you. Levi is close behind, but not before looking at you with something that can almost be described as pity.

The door shuts with a click and Mom collapses back into her chair. Kristoff hops up and down and waves the paper over his head.

“Kris, you did it!” You clap your hands and jump alongside him.

“Mom, can you believe it?” he asks while you dance around.

She’s shaking her head as if in disbelief but her eyes are sharp and sure.

“Mom,” you say breathlessly. “When’s my turn? Like Farlan said?”  
Kristoff stops his jumping. Mom looks up with a glassy expression.

“He shouldn’t have said that,” she admits matter of factly. “There’s no money left. You and I will have to continue to make it down here.”

The smile melts from your face. You look at Kristoff for help but his face is sad. “Really?” you ask forlornly.

“Don’t worry,” he says in an attempt to comfort you. “I’ll train hard. I’ll rise the ranks. Someday I’ll be able to get you and Mom out of here, too.”

Tears well up in your eyes and, feeling foolish, you roughly wipe them away with the back of your arm.

“I have to wait for you to rescue us?” you choke out. “I can’t do it myself like you are?”

“Enough of this,” says Mom. “We did this for your brother, not you. Let him have his chance.”

“I - ” you start but decide against it. With a quivering pout you run for the door.

“(Y/N)!” Kristoff calls but he doesn’t chase you.

Angry at your predicament and, though you don’t realize it, terribly sad that Kris is leaving, you fly over the front stoop and tear down the street. Your bare feet slap against the dirty pavement and you veer around the corner. Up ahead, you see Farlan and Levi’s retreating backs.

“Wait!” you cry. They don’t turn. “Levi!” you try, unsure why his name is the first to rise to your lips.

They both turn and you continue your sprint to catch up. You can’t slow in time and you skid straight into Levi.

“Oi, brat - ” he starts but Farlan interrupts.

“(Y/N)? What is it?”

“Please, tell me,” you gasp, out of breath, as Levi shoves you off him, “what can I do to get my papers? I - ” you begin to choke up again as Farlan looks down at you sadly. “I didn’t know I would never be able to.” You angrily wipe away more tears. “I want to see the sun and the sky, too. I want to be with Kris.”

Farlan puts a hand on your shoulder but it’s Levi who speaks. “You want to get out of here?” he asks, nothing at all gentle in the way he says it. “Learn to take care of yourself. Get yourself out of here. Otherwise you’re stuck like the rest of us.”

Farlan sighs. “We live hard lives down here. People on the surface, they’ll never understand. They’ve never known the taste of sewer water. Still, I really hope you get up there someday, kid.”

“Come on,” says Levi to Farlan coldly, eyeing you with his steely gaze. “We have other things to get to today.”

With a nod Farlan’s hand drops from your shoulder and, without another word, they depart. You watch them go and, through your tears, you don’t see Levi look over his shoulder at you one more time.

That night, Kristoff packs his few belongings with a sort of nervous excitement. You watch, sullen, the reality of the situation really hitting you. He’s leaving. For good.

Early the next morning, Kristoff pulls you close in a brief embrace. Mom tearfully waves him off. Only once he rounds the corner of your street — on which stands the only home you’ve both ever known — does it sink in. Hot tears start to spill from your eyes.

You never see him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love it? Hate it? Leave me a comment! x


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Caged birds accept each other, but flight is what they long for._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the hits on the prologue!  
> This is a three part story, each part consisting of ten chapters. So here I present to you Part One, Chapter One.  
> Please enjoy xoxo

|| Part One ||

_ Year 847 _

Cold water gushes from the squeaking old pump in the tavern’s only bathroom. You shape your hands into a cup and throw the water into your face. It’s a feeble attempt to perk up; you’re filled with dread at the thought of another hard night of waitressing.

In the cracked mirror over the basin your own reflection looks back at you. For a fleeting moment, you think of Kristoff. The shape of his eyebrows, the curve of his nose, the length of his chin. Underneath your kohl-lined eyes and red-stained lips, his features were all just like yours.

You screw your eyes shut to block it out. You don’t relish memories of your brother. Picturing his face inevitably leads to the thought of that terrible day. The knock at the door, not unlike that day so long ago when he got his papers. The curt greeting, the businesslike way the soldier delivered Mom the news.  _ Deceased.  _ Mom’s screams. The way your legs seemed to crumple beneath you as you sunk to the floor.

You knead your eyes with the heels of your hands.  _ Snap out of it, (Y/N) _ .

With a sigh, you turn to the task of braiding your long hair. Against your will, your thoughts continue to wander to dark places. If you could forget it all you would, especially returning home the next night to find Mom’s corpse swinging from the rafters.

That was two years ago. It took two short weeks for this job to turn up, one short afternoon to pack up all your worldly belongings and leave behind your childhood home. Good timing, too - there was no way for you to come up with the rent on that place alone. Now, you’re a barmaid in the Underground and maybe you’ll even die a barmaid in the Underground.

_ No _ , you admonish yourself.  _ I can’t and I won’t _ . Your reflection’s eyes narrow in the mirror.  _ Even if it’s penny by penny. I’m getting out of here someday. _

You heave another sigh and leave the bathroom.

On the way out, you grab your apron from a hook on the wall and tie it snugly around your waist. You own only three outfits. You brought a skirt, a top and a dress with you from home. The third dress belonged to one of the other girls at the tavern. She left one night with a customer and never came back. You and the other barmaid, Fara, divided up her things.

This is the one you’re wearing now. It’s the color of mustard, has buttons going straight up the front, a neckline that begins just barely above your breasts, and cap sleeves. You think of the way Mom instilled in you and Kris that being neat and well-manicured should be a source of pride in a lifestyle where there is little to be found. Sighing yet again, you smooth a crease from your skirt, your fingers brushing the garter that conceals your blade  –  your only means of self-defense  –  through the fabric. This color does nothing for you, but with the added shape from the apron you decide you look pretty enough. Pretty enough for tips, that is.

You push through the saloon doors leading to the dining room and see Fara already behind the bar with Sebastian, the manager and bartender. You often wonder if they’re siblings or cousins; they’re both tall, lean and sharp-witted. Neither has ever mentioned it, however, and you’ve never asked.

At the start of your employment, Fara quickly went from aloof and unapproachable to a mentor of sorts. What she lacks in warmth and kindness she makes up for in common sense and self-confidence. You like to think she saw something in you – potential? – but it’s more likely that she pitied your naivete; a girl working in a joint like this will often have a second source of income, one your innocent mind couldn’t fathom on its own. And so she gave meaning to the noises you hear coming from her quarters upstairs at night. It was almost a relief to know – the only thing separating her room from yours is a thin wall. Still, you blush at the thought just like you were often blushing at the tips and tricks she liked to give you at the ends of long shifts, glasses of amber liquor on the table between you.

She taught you when to be discreet and when to flaunt (it all depends on the man), how to strike a deal, how to sway your hips just so… In fact, it was something new almost every night.

“Smile often but not too eagerly.” She’d take a sip of her drink. You’d furrow your brow.  _ What does that even mean? _

“Laugh at men’s jokes, even if they’re not funny.” A pensive look would take over her plain features. “ _ Especially _ when they’re not funny.” That one led to some failed attempts at fake laughter in the bathroom mirror.

As she ran a finger through her cropped hair she taught you, “play with your hair a lot when you flirt. And flirt a lot.” You did the hair thing one night and whipped a guy in the face with your braid by accident. It probably wasn’t all that charming.

And then there’s the one she reminds you of the most often: “The ones who wait out your shift are the most serious. Pay them extra attention.”

This one has proven to continually work to your advantage. It’s easy to pick out the handsy men, the chatty men, and the especially drunk men from a crowd on a busy night. Then, you’ll laugh a little extra hard, be a little nicer, and maybe even sit down with them for a bit when the dining room starts to clear out. With practice, the tips got larger and larger. With age, your figure filled out and your confidence grew. Now, you know how to handle yourself and how to handle the tavern’s clientele.

You were an attentive student of Fara’s but to this day you never put any of her more… risque lessons into practice. At least, you don’t see them through. 

_ Prostitute.  _ What an ugly word.

_ Whore. _ It leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

You know that one day it might be necessary. It may even be inevitable; your meager wage hardly covers meals and rent, let alone any amenities you might hope for. But the very thought of one of the tavern’s greacey, rough, foul-smelling patrons putting his meaty hands on your most private, delicate places makes you sick to your stomach. It would have to be the right night, with the right man and  _ definitely  _ for the right price.

For now, Fara’s lessons in the seductive arts come in most handy when bringing in your tips or haggling at the market. With a shake of your head you vow to keep it that way for as long as you can.

“Oi, (Y/N),” says Sebastian, pulling you from your reverie. “About time you showed up.”

You respond with an exaggerated eye roll. “Apologies, your highness. It never occurred to me that it takes three people to serve four pints of ale.”

A handful of patrons have been seated around the dining room, only two or three with drinks. Fara smiles at you in her usual tired manner. It’s the end of the work week and she is clearly dressed to bring in some extra business tonight. Her shapely figure is accentuated by the fitted bodice of her dress and the tight waist of her apron, tied exactly like yours. Her lips are painted, her eyes lined and cheeks stained with rouge. You admit to yourself that if she doesn’t look beautiful she at least looks like the type of woman who would attract her “special” sort of customer.

“It’s going to be a busy night,” Fara tells you. She has a good sense for these things. “Everyone’s on edge with all the extra Military Police crawling around lately.” She wrinkles her nose like she’s smelled something bad. “People are going to want to drink.”

Sebastian nods in agreement. “No one’s happy about it. A couple of MPs stopped me on my way back from the market yesterday. They’re looking for some girl. Actually, (Y/N), she could be you.”

You raise an eyebrow inquisitively. 

“What makes you think that?” asks Fara.

“Aged fifteen to twenty, no family, brother in the military.”

You swing a clean rag over your shoulder with more force than is necessary. “Not me then,” you say darkly. “My brother’s dead.”

* * *

The night turns out exactly as Fara predicted: busy. The tables are packed and customers are standing around, shoulder to shoulder at the bar. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and the suffocating smell of booze mingled with sweat. You glide between tables and throngs of people with a practiced rhythm, dodging elbows and stepping around chairs. It gets to the point where you’re shouting over the noise. Someone takes out a fiddle and people are singing along. You have a headache.

“Another round, gentlemen?” you yell to a pair at one of the dirty, sticky tables.

“I’d rather have my hands full of you than another drink, sweetheart,” slurs one. You fight to keep your expression cheerful as you take in his yellow teeth and bald head. He’s old enough to be your father.

With great resolve you wink. “Too busy for that tonight, mister. But I’ll have your hands busy with some more ale in just a minute.” You hurry off and feel him tug at your skirt as you go.

_ Gross. _

You don’t notice another pair of eyes following your harried trip up to the bar.

On your way, you gather empty plates and tankards onto your tray. Sebastian replaces them with two more sets of drinks. You weave your way around, delivering the first few, ale sloshing over your hand, then return to your bald friend.

“Here you are,” you say with as much politeness as you can muster. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

You lift the drinks from your tray and set them down in front of the lecherous men. You choose to ignore the look they exchange as you turn away. You’ve barely taken a step when the bald one snatches the hem of your skirt and yanks it upwards, the other howling with laughter. Before you can react his hand is roughly pinching your behind.

This gets the attention of people in the immediate area. You hardly register the way they’re laughing and pointing. As they fade into the background so does the way the dark-haired man in the back of the room stands and, on the offensive, takes a step in your direction.

“Oh, fuck no,” you spit.

Not even taking the time to reach for your concealed weapon, you swing around forcefully, allowing the movement to add momentum to the arm you use to hurl your serving tray at the man’s face. The rim whacks into his jaw hard enough to send him reeling off his chair. Anyone who is watching closely enough will see a bloody tooth bouncing along the floorboards while your skirts flutter back into place.

A hush falls over the room. You’re breathing hard and there’s a ringing in your ears. Then, someone whistles. Everyone seems to release a collective breath. Suddenly men are hooting and catcalling and women are cheering.

“Ha,” you allow yourself to breathe a small laugh.

Fara materializes at your side and takes your arm in a silent question,  _ Are you okay? _

You nod to her and she turns on the man on the floor.

“Get up, asshole. We’ve got a policy here: if our girls don’t want it then you keep it to yourself. Got it?”

You smirk and leave Fara to clean up the mess. Sebastian is smiling and shaking his head as he pours drinks behind the bar. The fiddle picks up again and you return to your duties. 

_ Maybe this will help tips tonight. _

* * *

The rest of the evening goes by uneventfully. It’s roughly midnight when Fara slips out with someone or other and you’re left to wipe down tables, close tabs, and fill any last minute orders. A quick survey of the room reveals a couple of stragglers at the bar and about five or six tables still occupied. The fiddler has mercifully left.

Your feet and back are aching at this point in the night. You shuffle to the bar with what will be your last order. While Sebastian prepares it, you turn back to the dining room and check your tables. You make your way to one in the back where the dark-haired man has been drinking alone for the past hour or so.

His stature is less than impressive.  _ Actually quite short _ , you muse. His arms, one casually slung over the back of his chair, look strong through his crisp white button up. The raven-black hair is styled in an undercut and neatly combed. His face is downturned and unreadable. You find his neatness suspicious; those clothes look too expensive for the Underground.

“How are we doing over here? You need a refill to finish off the night?” You don’t bother forcing a smile onto your face or some lightness into your voice. You’re tired; you don’t even realize his tankard is only half empty.

In response he looks up at you to meet your eyes. His are a dull gray and his face is expressionless.

“No more drinks,” he tells you almost monotonously. “Sit with me for a minute.”

You laugh lifelessly. “All right, pal. I have five other tables to close out. You wanna take care of them while I have a seat?”

Wordlessly, the man reaches into his pocket and drops a fistful of cash onto the table. One hand is still clutching the tankard. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you take in the sum and you quickly count what you can see  –  at least twice as much as you’ll be making in your last tables’ tips.

More out of nervousness than necessity, you wipe your hands on your apron. “Well okay then,” you say and take a seat.

This isn’t unheard of. Men have paid you simply for attention before. What is odd, you decide, is that this guy has taken no other interest in you all night. You can’t even remember him speaking except to order his drink.

Although, come to think of it, how many times did you glance over to his table and notice he was already looking at you? How many times did you meet his eyes only for him to divert his gaze? And… is it him you can picture quickly standing to your defense before the tray incident?

Why does he look so familiar?

“Are you just going to let that sit there or are you going to take it before I change my mind?” the man asks abrasively, tipping his head in the direction of the money.

You eye him with what you hope is a neutral expression. You don’t want him to know how uneasy he’s making you.

“I’d prefer if you kept your mind made up,” you tell him, now trying to flirt. You pick up the money and pocket it without breaking eye contact.

The man regards you with that same air of stoicism a moment longer. Then, as a means of introduction, he says, “Captain Levi Ackerman.”

You stifle a gasp.  _ It can’t be.  _ But it is. Images of Levi and his then-partner, Farlan, sitting at your mother’s kitchen table flash across your mind. You picture his face as it looked through your tears, standing in the street all those years ago.  _ Learn to take care of yourself. Get yourself out of here.  _ It’s his words that you’ve lived by ever since.

You grit your teeth and decide not to let on that you know him. Surely, after this much time, he won’t recognize you. And a part of you knows what he could be after. If you’re right (and you pray you’re wrong) it will be better for both of you if all you are to him is a poor barmaid.

After a steadying breath, you delicately place a hand to your chest, leaning a bit closer to the Captain over the table. 

“(Y/N).” You smile gently, introducing yourself.

“(Y/N),” he repeats evenly. Nothing suggests even a hint of recognition.

_ So he doesn’t realize after all. _

He releases his tankard of unfinished ale and crosses his legs, leaning back in his chair.

“How about four hundred for the night?”

You inhale sharply. There is no concealing your shock. You briefly wonder if Fara has ever brought that much in for one night.

_ And,  _ says a nagging voice in the back of your mind,  _ you were right. He’s a pig like all the men who come through here.  _ A morose feeling starts to fester in your chest  – disappointment . Dejected, you shove it away.

Another voice is contemplating how the Captain found himself here of all places. Sure, high ranking military officers will take their shadier business down below. But why a Captain  –  a very good looking one no less  –  came all the way to the Underground just for a woman is beyond you.

A beat passes while you consider your options. Four hundred is life changing in the Underground. Four hundred is the path to a better job, a nice place to live, maybe even a half-decent husband someday. 

_ This could be my way out. _

You blink slowly and meet the Captain’s unwavering gaze once more. Your heart is pounding against your chest like the beat of a war drum. You speak before your resolve weakens.

“I’ll let the boss know I’m done for the night,” you murmur in a way that you hope is seductive and not submissive.

Levi nods.

“But first –”

He freezes.

“ – you gotta agree to do this my way.”

“Tsk. Yeah right.”

You stand.

“Gone by sunrise. I see the money first. Upstairs, nowhere else.”

He regards you with those dull eyes. “Like I said, impossible.”

You scowl down at him. “What about that is so bad? Tell me,  _ Captain _ .” There’s no honor in the way you say his title.

He raises an eyebrow. “We won’t be spending the night here,” he says. “You’ll leave Wall Sina with me. I’ll explain more once we get there.”

Your heart rate quickens even further. You collapse back into the chair. “ _ Leave  _ the Underground?” you whisper fervently. “Leave  _ Wall Sina _ ?” you demand of him in the same voice.

“Is that really too much to expect for the price I’ve offered?”

You take another steadying breath.

“Yes.” You pause and take a leap of faith. “But not for five hundred.”

Nothing in his face betrays what he’s thinking. “Fine. Go tell your boss and pack your things.”

His agreement is another surprise.

“Wait,” you realize. You hold up your hands. “Pack my  _ things _ ?”

“Five hundred, (Y/N),” the Captain reminds you. “I already said I’ll explain once we get where we’re going.”

He tosses down enough change to cover the cost of the ale, effectively dismissing you.

Your hands fall into your lap. Seeing no way out, you gather the change and leave the table to do as you’re told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author can have a little comment? As a treat?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand we're back. If any of my readers would like to chat, I'm on [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com)! Drop me an ask or feel free to just say hello.
> 
> Anyway, on with the chapter.

Your palms are sweating, your heart is racing and your stomach hurts. 

_ Am I really doing this? _

There’s a tremble in your hands as you toss your clothes into a pack. On top you throw your hairbrush, shawl, toothbrush, and a vial of rosewater you like to comb through your hair and dab on your throat.

Sebastian’s thin eyebrows had flown straight up into his hairline when you told him where you’re going. Well, you couldn’t say where exactly you’re going because you still have no idea. Your head spins as you imagine leaving the capital city in the dead of night with a man who, really, you can hardly say you know. Hell, you’ve never even stepped foot on the surface. Either way, you had to admit to Sebastian that you’re leaving with a man and wouldn’t be able to finish closing. 

You wrestle with the thoughts whirring around your head. Why are you feeling…betrayed?  _ You know exactly why _ , your subconscious sneers at you,  _ You’d chalked this Captain Levi up to be some sort of hero.  _ You shake your head.  _ Take a good look, (Y/N). He found his way out and couldn’t resist coming back down to gloat. _

You shake your head once more and bite your lip.  _ Enough. _

The ache in your stomach deepens as you secure the pack shut over your few belongings. Why would the Captain only ask for the night but have you pack all your things? You swallow and screw your eyes shut. You know you’re taking a huge risk.  _ Maybe it’ll be fine. Maybe this is my big break. _

_ Five hundred _ .

The thought of the number makes you feel bold. You sling the bag over your shoulder and exit the little room you’ve occupied for two years.

As you descend the creaking staircase you strain your ears to listen for the remaining customers, but not a single sound reaches you. You push through the saloon doors and are met with an empty dining room. Sebastian must have rushed to close out.

Your eyes dart around the room in search of the Captain but they find him nowhere. Hesitantly, you step into the room as if you expect him to jump out at you.

_ Boo _ .

The front door bangs open to reveal him standing in the entrance.

“Come on already. You’ve taken enough time.”

His coarseness nearly convinces you you’ve made the wrong call. Your fight or flight instincts are screaming  _ run, run!  _ But you’ve already made up your mind. You make your way towards him and out the door.

The Captain starts right in at a brisk walk and you trot to keep up, staying a step or two behind him. He’s put on a black suit jacket against the late night chill and now, to add to your list of worries, you find yourself wishing you’d had the foresight not to pack away your shawl. You’re too nervous to stop and pull it out of your pack. Before you know it, goosebumps have risen on your bare arms and your teeth are chattering.

The Captain stops and looks at you sideways. You nearly run straight into him.

“Tsk.”

He shrugs off his jacket and holds it out to you at arm’s length, as if you would bolt like a startled deer if he got too close. You admit to yourself that you might.

You look at the jacket in his outstretched hand with confusion. When you fail to take it, he rolls his slate gray eyes and tosses it around your shoulders without a word. You’re surprised to find yourself blushing, Before you can utter a word of thanks he’s off again, heading for the southern pass.

Hurrying again to catch up, you numbly slide your arms into the sleeves of the Captain’s jacket. It’s still warm from his body heat and a clean, masculine scent clings to it.

It’s not a terribly long walk but long enough to organize your thoughts. The Captain doesn’t speak the whole way. You focus on your breathing and the sounds of your footsteps against the pavement. You steal several brief glances at your most unlikely companion. It’s hard to place how old he is but he’s certainly not  _ old _ . In addition, you have no choice but to acknowledge that he’s very good looking, regardless of his height and the dark shadows under his eyes. He has sharp, handsome features and a trim, muscular physique. 

By the time you begin ascending the stairs your breaths are coming loudly and laboriously. The Captain’s steely exterior reveals no signs of fatigue. You find this irritating.

“All right, Captain,” you manage to say as you continue to climb. “‘Fess up. Where are we going?”

He looks at you sideways and, if possible, frowns deeper. “Are you such an idiot you can’t even understand the meaning of ‘I’ll tell you when we get there’?”

“Ha,” you breathe humorlessly. “It’s nice to know you hold my intelligence in such high regard.” You catch your breath before continuing. “As it so happens, I do understand what that means. But it’s implying you’ll explain this whole bizarre situation once we arrive, not that you’ll wait until we get there to tell me where we’re going. In fact, the information would be redundant at that point anyway. I’ll have already  _ seen _ where we’re going.” Another pause to breathe. “Ya know, cause I’ll already be there.”

The Captain doesn’t respond right away. You swear you can hear the sound of his teeth grinding in agitation.

“Don’t make me regret this, (Y/N).”

You balk. “Regret  _ what _ ? It’s not like I was throwing myself at you, or—”

This time when the Captain stops you  _ do  _ bump into him. He gives you a withering look and it occurs to you that you’ve reached the toll booth. As a matter of fact, the very smell of the air has changed. It’s clearer and fresher than anywhere you’ve ever been. A look around the Captain’s shoulder reveals the southern exit of the Underground. As the Captain raps on the glass of the hut to wake the guard, you step around him to take in your first view of a clear night sky.

Your worries flee your mind. Any thoughts you've been having —  _ should I really be mouthing off? Should I be more flirtatious? What would Fara do?  _ — __ abandon you. If a bird were to nest in your gaping mouth you wouldn’t even notice. Your neck cranes back as your eyes hungrily take in the sight of the endless black sky. It’s riddled with twinkling stars and a bright, shining crescent moon.

Unbeknownst to you, the Captain has paid both of your tolls and is now looking at you with a much softer expression than he has yet to exhibit all night. He takes in your upturned face, the way the moonlight illuminates your skin, and how his jacket hangs loosely from your frame.

“What’re you wandering off for?” he asks quietly.

The sound of his voice brings you back down to earth. You turn to look at him and it occurs to both of you that tears have spilled from your eyes. You hurriedly wipe them away with the back of your hand.

He elects not to comment on it. “This way.”

You follow after him a short ways and arrive at a building lit by a single lantern. Waiting outside is a young boy and a horse he has tethered to a nearby post. Wordlessly, the Captain tosses him a pouch of change and undoes the horse’s tether. It turns its large head towards you and knickers.

You’ve seen horses before, of course, although it’s not common for anyone to go to the trouble of keeping them in the Underground. Merchants are typically the only ones who can afford it.

Silently, you lift a hand to pat its muzzle. It nudges you affectionately, making you smile.

Suddenly, the Captain’s strong hands have firmly gripped your waist. You’re so startled by his touch that you wrench away from his grasp.

“ _ Hey _ ,” you say, turning around and back into the horse. You fleetingly think how the horse has shown you more kindness than anyone else all night. Your breath is coming in short gasps. “You don’t put your hands on me until I see the money.”

As you say the words some of your trepidation is replaced with confusion.  _ Why am I blushing again? What is happening to me _ ? You’re achingly aware of his close proximity.

The Captain, on the other hand, looks peeved. “So you’re an experienced equestrian now? Go ahead, mount her without my help then.”

Your breathing slows.

“Fine,” you say aloud, turning to face your new friend again. You look at the saddle, the reins and the stirrup nearest you. As you look, the Captain takes your pack from your hand. You’re too distracted to thank him.  
Having decided on the best course of action, you grab the front of the saddle in one hand and the back in the other, raise your left foot to the stirrup, and hoist yourself upwards, swinging your right leg up and around. The momentum propels you straight over the other side of the horse.

You land heavily on your rear, legs sprawled out in front of you. “ _ Ouch _ .”

The Captain comes around to your side. You turn a deep shade of red and refuse to look up at him.

“Look what you did. You got my jacket dirty.”

You simply scowl. After a moment, he extends a hand to help you up. Stubbornly, you stand on your own.

“Will you admit now that you need my help?”

“No,” you say cheekily. “But if you were to help me I wouldn’t stop you.”

Something like mirth dances in his cold eyes.

He once more puts his hands on your waist to hoist you into the saddle. This time, your rear finds purchase where it should and after hiking up your dress a bit you manage to settle somewhat comfortably.

The Captain climbs into the saddle in front of you and takes the reins.

“Wrap your arms around my waist.”

You gingerly rest your hands at his sides. He sighs.

“You’ll fall again like that. Wrap your arms all the way around me and hold on tight.”

You swallow and do as you’re told. In such close proximity you again note his scent, not at all unpleasant.

When he commands the horse forward in a gallop you’re forced to tighten your arms around him further or risk tumbling over her rear. It’s in this fashion that you make your way through the capital Mitras, tall buildings, streets and shops whizzing by you. You can hardly take a single thing in. The wind against your face is exhilarating, unlike anything you’ve known before.

Then, the wall. It is massive, bigger than you ever could’ve imagined, and incredibly foreboding. It looms over you the whole way to it’s gate and once you’re through it seems that its towering presence is still watching over you, even with your eyes glued to the place between the Captain’s shoulder blades.

To your relief, the journey is over fairly quickly. You refuse to dwell on how you’ll find your way home come morning, especially without citizenship papers.

Now within Wall Rose, you take in your surroundings. The Captain brings the horse to a stop outside a small building, sandwiched amongst many, and a modest, barren garden fenced in with it. This is the most you can make out in the dark. That, and how near you are to Wall Rose.

The Captain dismounts and leads you and the horse through the gate. “This is where you live,” you wonder aloud.

He nods. “At least I would if I got more than one day of leave a week. Usually I’m at the Survey Corps barracks.”

_ A Captain of the Survey Corps, then.  _

He reaches his arms up to you. Without fuss this time, you swing both legs to one side and cling to him as he helps you down. With two feet once again on the ground, you force yourself to take a deep, shaky breath. Your grip on the Captain’s arms is firm and, sensing you need his support, he holds you longer than otherwise would be necessary. You meet his gaze. His breath tickles your face and, realizing how near he is, you nervously let him go.

The reality of your situation is setting in. Your stomach begins to once again clench with fear as you follow the Captain into the house.

The door shuts behind you and you squint against the darkness. It’s a bit warmer than outside. The Captain strikes a match and lights a lamp, casting long shadows around the room.

You’re standing in a kitchen and living space. You take in the sink, oven, sturdy looking table and two chairs, a plain rug and bench. There’s a window over the basin and another over the bench. At the back of the room is a door you’re certain leads to the bedroom. The thought of the bedroom makes you want to faint.

_ Five hundred _ . The number is becoming like a mantra to you. You force yourself to calm down.

The Captain has busied himself heating up water. He pulls two teacups from a cupboard and sets them on the table. The silence is crushing you. He adds teabags to the cups, then pours the steaming water over them. You’re convinced you’ll pass out.  _ What the hell is going on?  _ you wonder over and over.

Nothing about this night is going the way you expected.

“What’s going on?” You don’t mean to say it but the words come tumbling out before you can stop them.

“Have you never seen someone make tea before?”

You laugh even though nothing is funny. “Captain, are you seriously paying me to have tea with you?”

He sighs and pulls out a chair. “Sit down,” he says, gesturing to the seat.

“I’m fine here.”

“Suit yourself.” He sits in the other chair and picks up his cup of tea with a hand positioned almost like a claw, fingers on the rim.

“I’m sure this isn’t what you’re used to,” the Captain says.

“What I’m  _ used to _ ?” you exclaim. “Captain, I’ve never even done this before.”

His eyes widen and you realize you’ve made a terrible mistake.  _ I’ve already gotten myself into an incredibly dangerous situation, miles from home with a strange man,  _ you think to yourself.  _ What will he do now that he knows I’m only figuring this out as I go? _

“That’s…not technically relevant, I suppose,” he says, regaining his composure. “You’re irritating me, standing there like that. Sit down before I make you.”

If he realizes how much that scares you he doesn’t show it. You do as he says.

“I want you to live here and maintain the house.”

If you had touched your tea you would’ve spit it back out. You shoot back up from your chair. “Don’t think that just because I’ve never whored myself out before you can do whatever you please. That’s — that’s  _ kidnapping, _ ” you sputter.

“For God’s sake can’t you just sit down?”

“I cannot sit down! Do you understand the situation you’ve put me in? Can you even comprehend how much sheer force of  _ will  _ it took for me to come here with you? And now you plan to hold me captive? I—”

“Can you stop worrying about ‘whoring yourself out,’ as you so eloquently put it? I have no interest in touching you. And I’m not holding you captive.”

Your knees turn weak with relief. The blood seems to rush back to your head all at once.

... _ thank the walls. _

You’re quickly on the offensive again.

“Then explain to me what the hell is going on.”

The Captain takes a drink. “This is about your brother.”

You can feel the blood drain from your face.

“My brother?”

He nods once. “Kristoff.”

Now, shocked to your core, you have no choice but to collapse into your seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing your thoughts! I have a special happy dance I reserve especially for new comments. So…throw me a bone?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Feel like chatting? I'm on [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com)!

“This is about your brother.”

You can feel the blood drain from your face.

“My brother?”

He nods once. “Kristoff.”

Now, shocked to your core, you have no choice but to collapse into your seat.

“Kristoff?”

The Captain nods. “You probably don’t remember me. You were just a shitty kid when your mother hired me to arrange his paperwork. He enlisted in the military that year.”

“Of course,” you whisper, “of course I remember.”

Levi raises his eyebrows in a question. 

“I remember the three of you well. Farlan and the girl—”

“Isabel.”

“Was that her name?” you muse. “I never met her. I was completely awed by the way you’d fly around with the military gear.”

You sigh a bit wistfully and picture them sailing overhead like birds. If you shut your eyes you can almost see it, the way they whiz by, hardly more than blurs, the sounds of the equipment zipping and whirring. Once, as a child, you tried to chase after them, but they had disappeared around a corner in moments.

“I’m impressed you remember my face,” Levi interrupts your daydream.

“How could I forget?” you murmur. Your cheeks flush under his piercing gaze and you struggle to ignore it. “My brother,” you say, changing the subject. “What about him?” You lift your eyes to meet Levi’s.

If you weren’t so occupied with your nostalgia you might notice the way Levi suddenly becomes interested in a scratch on the table top. “I got to know him well once I was recruited.” He pauses. “Well enough.”

You struggle to formulate your thoughts into a coherent response. Thankfully, Levi continues before you need to.

“He talked about you. Being attached to civilians back home is dangerous for a soldier. But he worried about you.”

_Kris._

“Since joining the Survey Corps I haven’t maintained any of my contacts in the Underground. But eventually, word reached me about your situation. And here we are.”

At this point he lifts his steely eyes to yours again. You observe his posture, similar to how he was sitting in the tavern: one arm slung over the back of his chair, one leg folded over the other.

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth at the tavern?” a twinge of fear resurfaces. “Why lure me here under false pretenses?”

“I needed you to say yes,” Levi shrugs. “I knew that was more likely to happen if you were already here.”

“You came for me…” you trail off, struggling with your words. “You came for me tonight because Kristoff used to talk about me? Nothing else?”

A beat of silence passes, then another. Levi’s passive gaze falls to his tea. “It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

To both your surprise and his, you reach out to catch the hand now resting beside his teacup in yours.

“Captain, thank you.”

“Tsk,” is Levi’s only response. He doesn’t pull his hand away.

Several moments pass before you let go. You take a sip of your now lukewarm tea. “Well, I’m here. I guess to stay.” Levi’s posture relaxes slightly. “How is this going to work?” You shiver and it occurs to you you’re still wearing his jacket. You pull it more tightly around you.

“First, you’re going to get yourself some decent clothes; I don’t want that filthy thing you call a dress in my house.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “You’ll get the money I promised you for tonight and then I’ll start arranging a stipend for you while I’m here on my day off every week.”

The money, which had been your lifeline the whole way here, completely slipped your mind at the mention of your brother. Now, it comes back to you in a rush. This is almost too good to be true.

“Every week?”

“Yes, can’t you pay attention? I’m serious, I’m leaving for the barracks again first thing in the morning and you’re going to go out and get things to dress yourself properly. And I swear you better keep this place clean.” His eyes shine with the light of something scary. “ _Very_ clean. Understood?”

“Yes, understood.” You pause and mull over what he said. “So what am I, your new housewife?”

Levi’s face twitches. “Don’t you dare go around calling yourself that. If anyone asks, you tell them to eat shit, you hear me?”

You snort. “Sure. I bet I’ll make loads of friends.”

“No, you won’t. I want you to stay at the house as much as possible. Avoid the market unless it’s absolutely necessary. I only have two conditions.” That deadly look enters his eye again. “You keep to yourself and you keep this place clean.”

With a sigh you shrug. “All right.”

Levi’s eyes narrow as if he doesn’t believe you.

“Captain, really, I agree to your terms. Do you know the type of lifestyle I’m used to? I’d rather get eaten by a Titan than turn this down.”

His frown deepens. “Don’t talk about shit you don’t understand, (Y/N).”

You roll your eyes. “Just…” you begin, serious again. “I hope I’m right to trust you.”

He stands, ignoring your statement. “You’ll sleep in the bedroom, through here.” It turns out your suspicions about the door were correct. Levi picks up your pack and leads you to the room.

You take it from him, your hand brushing his, then let his jacket fall from your shoulders to give it back.

“Hang onto it for now,” he says.

You pull it close against your chest. “Where will you sleep?”

He glances over his shoulder at the living space. “I’ll set up a cot.”

“You don’t have to on my account—”

He cuts you off. “I’m rarely here. A cot on the floor of the house is more comfortable than conditions I’ve put up with before.” Before you can answer, he continues. “Go to sleep already, would you? I’ve had enough of you for one night.”

As he turns back to the kitchen you feel a small smile tug at your lips. _He’s grumpy, isn’t he?_ “Goodnight, Captain.”  
By the time Levi looks back your way you’ve already pulled the door quietly shut.

**The sunlight** streaming through the window wakes you the next day. As soon as your eyes open you bolt upright and rush to the window, throwing it open. It’s a comfortable, early spring day and a gentle breeze lifts loose tendrils of your hair. You squint against the light. 

_So this is what it’s like_.

Excitedly, you rush back to the bed, more plush than any you’ve ever slept on, and pull the bedding up in some semblance of neatness. You grab your shawl to cover your nightclothes and rush out of the bedroom.

As Levi said, he must have left first thing in the morning — you’re alone. You spin around happily, taking in the view of the small house bathed in sunlight. Just as you start to get dizzy you stop and rush to the front door. Throwing it open, you stand barefoot in the garden. _Is it possible this is better even than the night sky?_ you wonder, squinting directly into the sun. Fluffy white clouds drift by.

Now nearly blinded by the light, you glance up and down the street, lined by homes similar to Levi’s. Several other shutters have been opened and a few people are milling about in the sunlight, heading towards the town center or toiling in their gardens.

You sigh happily and decide to head back inside before you’re caught by one of your new neighbors in your nightclothes. As you shut the front door behind you, you’re overwhelmed almost to the point of tears with thanks and admiration for Levi. This unexpected lifeline, not to mention this sudden connection to Kristoff, is a wonderful turn you never expected your life to take.

Still, you wonder if anything can be done about his terrible attitude. _And maybe the way the thought of him makes my heart skip a beat._ You bite your lip and shake your head.

With that you head back to the bedroom to dress for your day.

As Levi requested (or demanded, depending on how you look at it), you make your way into the town center for new clothes. With his generous payment, you get yourself a decent pair of shoes, a dress, apron, and material to craft a few more basic pieces yourself. That evening, you familiarize yourself with the kitchen and his limited pantry stock, prompting another trip into town the next day for food.

And thus your new life as Levi’s housekeeper begins. You spend that first week sewing, cooking, gardening, and cleaning. Cleaning quite a bit, in fact. You consider yourself lucky that you’ve always been a bit of a clean freak yourself. No nook or cranny is safe from your dust rag. You sweep every evening, you wash the windows, scrub the bed linens and any other pieces of fabric you can find, including some shirts and trousers of Levi’s you discover in the bedroom. Pots, pans and kitchenware are cleaned the moment your meals are finished, as if Levi might bust in at the split second between your last bite and your chance to do the dishes to scold you for your negligence.

It’s during one of your cleaning frenzies that you make your first friend. 

The front door is ajar to let in a pleasant breeze that smells like the promise of rain later in the day. You haven’t yet noticed, but when you wiped down the bench under the window you jostled your sewing basket, knocking a spool of yarn to the floor. Once you finish cleaning the table you turn to find it out of place and doing a very good job entertaining a small brown cat.

A gasp escapes your lips. Your heart swells and you drop the rag you’re holding.

“Hello there,” you say sweetly, slowly approaching the cat. She meows almost as if she’s saying her own greeting. She bats the spool of yarn your way.

You crouch down to roll it back. No longer interested, however, the tortie rolls onto her back to show you her fluffy white belly. Your heart just about melts and you reach out to stroke her head and face. She chirps at you and gets up again to settle herself in your lap, purring contentedly.

And just like that, you have a pet cat.

On the fifth day, Freya is again batting a spool of yarn around when someone knocks on the door. Surprised, you look up from the skirt you’ve nearly finished sewing for yourself as a man calls, “Messages for Captain Levi!”

By the time you’re up from your seat and opening the door the messenger has gone. You see Levi’s messages have been slid under the door and assume everyone’s used to his house being vacant. Without much thought, you bend down to pick up the envelopes — all of them with official military seals — and bring them into the house. You set them down at the second place at the kitchen table, the one Levi sat at last week and you’ve subconsciously never used.

You attempt to turn back to your sewing but your thoughts wander further and further with each stitch. You’ve compiled a small mental checklist of things to take care of before tomorrow night when he comes home.

You hardly register that the thought makes you smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there ya have it — short and sweet. I'll try to make another quick update tomorrow because the next chapter is brief as well (but just as nice)~  
> We are very much in the Domestic Fluff phase of the fic. But never fear, I haven't forgotten all those angsty mines I've planted thus far.  
> And in case you haven't picked up on it, I love comments ^.^ Maybe if I were to get one or two I'd have more incentive to make that quick update… *sideways glances commence*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com)  
> Another chapter, as promised~

It’s midday when Levi gets back. The sun is high in the sky. You’ve opened all the windows and are just pulling a fresh loaf of bread out of the oven when he comes in. Your stomach jolts slightly with nerves when you hear the door open.

You’ve put quite a bit of thought into how this might go and you’re placing all bets on awkward. While Levi is technically your employer there’s no denying the situation is unique. Still, you drove yourself a bit mad getting ready for his arrival. Besides thoroughly cleaning everything (and then cleaning it again), you also spent most of the morning double and triple checking that the food and fine tea you stocked the pantry with hadn’t gotten up and walked away. The loose tea leaves cost you a small fortune, considering they’re a luxury item, but you had subconsciously determined that the Captain will enjoy it.

Once you were convinced there’s enough to feed a small army, you rushed into the bedroom to decide how you should look, Levi’s demands that you get yourself some decent clothes nagging at the back of your mind. After much debate, you settled on the white skirt you sewed yourself and a white shirt you bought last week with pretty, flouncy sleeves that fall to leave your shoulders bare. After braiding and unbraiding your hair, then pinning and unpinning your hair, you finally decided to leave it loose and keep it out of your face with a blue headscarf that matches the apron you decided on.

And here you are.

“Welcome home, Captain,” you say with a small smile, fighting the urge to break eye contact.

Levi’s wearing his military issued uniform — high boots, white pants, harnesses for the vertical maneuvering gear and the jacket emblazoned with the wings of freedom. He looks around the house as he shuts the door like he expects something to have changed in the past week.

“You did something with the garden,” he says as a means of greeting.

“Mhm,” you respond. “Some herbs and root vegetables that should grow in time for summer. I thought I’d try some carrots and potatoes come fall.”

You can’t tell if he’s listening. He’s gone over to the windowsill by the bench and is running a finger along it. You’re holding your breath as you set the bread on the stovetop to cool. When Levi’s finger comes away clean he raises his eyebrows.

“It’s clean.”

The breath you were holding rushes out in a  _ whoosh _ .

“You expect me to live like an animal because I’m from the Underground?”

Levi looks ready to respond but a small  _ meow  _ comes from under the bench. You spin around to see Freya affectionately rubbing against Levi’s leg, looking up at him with her sweet face and wide eyes.

“What,” Levi begins in a dangerous voice, “is this?”

“Freya, come here,  _ pst, pst, _ ” you say in a high voice.

You pull a crumb of cheese from the pocket of your apron and she obediently comes. Relieved for that at least you scoop her up and look at Levi, who is now regarding you with narrowed eyes.

You swallow. “This is Freya. She’s been keeping me company.”  
“What made you think letting a cat into my house to shit and piss everywhere was a good idea?”  
Now your eyes narrow. “She doesn’t _shit and piss_ everywhere,” you say with a hint of venom, clutching Freya to your chest. “She hunts and does her business outside. But…” you trail off.

“But what?”

“I’ve never lived alone before,” you admit, dropping your gaze. “It’s nice when she visits. Less lonely.”

Under no circumstances has Levi ever even phathomed the possibility of allowing an animal into his living space. Animals are dirty and belong outdoors.

He exhales through his nose. You believe if looks could kill you and Freya would both be dead. Deciding to test the waters, you widen your eyes slightly in a silent plea.

“I don’t ever want to see it while I’m here.”

You smile cheekily.

“Hm,” you hum happily. “I suppose that’s a good compromise.”

You kiss the top of the cat’s head and push the door open with your hip. “Come back tomorrow, baby,” you coo and set her down outside.

As you pull the door shut you turn to see Levi sorting through the messages you left for him on the table. He seems to have lost all interest in both you and Freya, so you thank your lucky stars and occupy yourself fixing a pot of tea.

The two of you busy yourselves in comfortable silence for several minutes. Once the water has reached the perfect temperature you pull the kettle from the stove and pour the hot water over the loose tea leaves. The sweet aroma reaches your nose and you smile. You wonder if you might be able to get up the nerve to thank Levi again. Fresh herbal tea, a garden, and new clothes were nothing but fantasies to you a short week ago.

While it steeps in the pot you pull two teacups from the cupboard and set them on the kitchen table. Levi has now sifted through all his messages and stacked them in a neat pile in front of him.

“I can trust you with my reports?”

“What?” you ask, unsure what he’s getting at.

You pour the two cups of tea and he says, “My messages. These are all copies of official Survey Corps reports that get sent here for file backup purposes. I need to know that you’re not reading them.”

You lift your gaze away from the tea to meet his eyes. “You’re kidding me.”

He gives you a withering look. “Is something funny about that?”

You snort. “Actually, yes, considering I can’t read.”

Levi blinks. “No one ever taught you to read?”

You sigh and sit down with your cup of tea. “Who would’ve taught me? Kristoff could barely read. He knew his letters, at least, and could really struggle through some basic stuff.” You pause. “Our father taught him when Kris was very small. But he died while our mother was pregnant with me. All Kristoff ever got around to teaching me was my name.”

Levi takes his seat as you talk, reluctant to convey his interest but somehow captivated by the sound of your voice. You feel emboldened by this and keep going.

“He was murdered,” you state plainly. 

“Murdered?”

You nod and bite your lip. Levi’s stare settles on your mouth as you do this but you fail to notice.

“Kenny the Ripper,” you whisper as explanation.

Levi’s jaw clenches and his shoulders tense. You wonder at it but choose not to comment.

“Why?” he questions curtly.

“I’ll never know,” you murmur into your tea. You take a sip before continuing. “My mother swears he was a hired hitman but how could she have learned that? And who would hire a notorious serial killer to take out a poor family man?”

Levi sips at his tea in brooding silence. He’s enjoying the leaves you picked and how well you brewed it. His stormy expression turns more neutral.

“Anyway,” you say after a bit. “I can’t read. So your reports are still perfectly confidential.”

He doesn’t say anything but drains his cup and stands, grabbing the reports. He goes into the bedroom where you hear him opening and closing the chest to stow them away while you pour him a second cup of tea. He comes back with a notebook and two pens.

You watch without a word as Levi opens the notebook and copies down the alphabet, uppercase and lowercase, along the top of a clean page. He slides the book over to your side of the table and points at what he’s written.

“Copy this underneath. I’ll name the letters as you go. Then do it again and name the letters yourself.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’? Don’t embarrass me by wallowing in your own idiocy. You’re learning to read and write, end of discussion.”

Despite his chiding words his expression is smooth and relaxed as if, nudged in the right direction, he could be coaxed to smile.

It’s difficult to hide how pleased you are. Grinning, you pick up the second pen and carefully trace  _ A _ beneath the alphabet Levi had written.

No sooner have you lifted the tip of the pen from the page than Levi stops you.

“Tsk. Why do you have the pen in a death grip like that? Are you afraid it’s going to escape?” He puts one hand on your wrist and uses the other to pry your fingers from the pen. “Relax,” he says, cradling your hand in his. He slides the pen back between your fingers, gently closing them around it. “Like that.”

You pray he hasn’t noticed the blush creep from your chest and up your neck at the feel of his touch. Your own feelings come as a surprise. What have his stoicism and rudeness done to plant this tingling feeling in your fingertips? How can you explain the way your stomach flips when his gray eyes meet yours?

“All right, now  _ B _ ,” Levi orders, placing a calloused finger where he wants you to write it on the page.

You’re happy to comply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Fluff City, where cheeks are pink and romance is budding.  
> I snuck in a little more backstory here, so the _whole_ chapter wasn't mindless floof (not that I have anything against that, but for this fic I'm trying to keep the story a-chuggin).  
> What are your thoughts on having yet another connection to Levi? Why did he keep his mouth shut about Kenny? I'll tell you it's because this plot is thicc, that's why.  
> If you enjoyed, leave me a comment! If it's the worst thing you've ever read, still leave me a comment!  
> Until next time xo


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com) ~  
> This has been my absolute favorite chapter to write. I hope you enjoy reading it just as much! Xx

The next several weeks go by much the same as the first. You keep yourself occupied in Levi’s absence by maintaining the house, working in the garden, entertaining Freya and, now, practicing your reading and writing. As the days trickle by one by one they begin to blur together. Keeping boredom at bay has proven to be your toughest trial, but your daily tasks generally fight it off well enough. You spend as much of your afternoons as you can under the sun in the garden. Often, you watch your neighbors mingling outside their homes with more than a little envy.

The one remedy to your ennui is the days Levi comes back. You make sure to have something baking and a pot of tea at the ready every time he comes home. There is no denying that both of you take some degree of pleasure in each other’s company. Though Levi will never once voice his feelings, you see the way his eyes soften at your progress in his lessons and the way he makes himself comfortable in the kitchen with you instead of busying himself somewhere else.

It’s hard to explain the way this makes you feel. The more time that passes the more you find that you like about the Captain. You like the way he has no patience for anything, seemingly, but your lessons. You like the way he may never smile but has an infinite number of frowns, one for every stage between livid and joyful. You like his steely gray eyes, his neat dark hair and sharp jawline. You like his strong hands, especially in the fleeting moments when they brush yours as he passes you the notebook (now full of letters and words of your own) or adjusts your grip on the pen. You like how you see the light of the lamp flickering from the kitchen long after you go to bed, wondering what keeps him up at night. You especially like how, sometimes, late in the evening, you’ll be sharing a pot of tea in the kitchen when he reaches up to undo the top few buttons of his shirt, revealing how the thick cords of his neck lead to a defined collarbone and lower….

You shake your head back and forth, forcing yourself back down to earth. The row of dirt you’re turning comes back into focus. You’re on your hands and knees in the garden, checking on the first sprouts of your rosemary underneath a hot sun. Leaning back on your heels, you lift an arm to wipe at the beads of sweat forming on your forehead. Wisps of hair that fell from your braid are sticking to your moist skin. Firmly, you scold yourself for the way you’ve been daydreaming about Levi.

_ What good is this doing you, (Y/N)?  _ You demand of yourself.  _ Nip these feelings in the bud. He’s older, he’s your boss, and he has a million things on his mind other than you and your dumb ass, sitting over here baking him bread and pining away _ .

With a huff you stand and shake the dirt from your skirt. You grab the watering can and distractedly water the plants. In truth, these not-so-gentle scoldings you treat yourself to are an effort to stamp down your real concerns.

_ One day he might not come back. _

You angrily shake your head at the thought. You know how foolish it is to trick yourself into thinking that Levi could never die in battle. You _ know  _ he’s no more invincible than any other soldier, even if you hear the way the townspeople call him “Humanity’s Strongest” when you visit the market. But, whether you acknowledge it or not, he’s the only person you have in this cruel world. It would just about undo you to spend your days fretting over his well being. You screw your eyes shut against the grotesque mental image of a Titan tearing him limb from limb.

Instead, you fill your head with thoughts of chores, letters and all the things you’ve come to enjoy about Levi.

You force a smile and go inside.

* * *

Levi’s day off is tomorrow but, on occasion, he’ll arrive the night before he’s due. This proves to be the case this week; you’re in the bedroom about finished brushing your hair when you hear him enter the house. Considering the late hour you’re already in your loose fitting nightshift, made of a thin material that does its best to keep you cool while you sleep in the summer heat. Startled from your thoughts by the sound of the front door, you jump up and search the room for your light summer robe.

“(Y/N)?” Levi calls quietly. You inhale, relishing the sound of your name on his voice.

“In here, Captain,” you reply. “Just a minute.”

Quickly, you pull your robe over your shoulders, letting it hang open, and check your reflection in your hand mirror. You tuck your long, loose hair behind one ear and accept that there’s not much else to do. You set the mirror down and, grabbing the vial of rosewater from on top of the shut chest, dab it on the pulse points of your wrists. With that you exit the room, padding barefoot along the floorboards.

Levi’s already sitting at the table, reclining with one leg crossed over the other. He appears to be lost in thought and hardly looks up when you open the door. You admire the way the lamplight dances across his sharp features. He’s neatly hung his uniform jacket from the back of his chair and is picking open the top buttons of his shirt with slender fingers. You love him like this, when you can observe his poise and bask in his quietly commanding presence uninterrupted. Not for the first time you ponder this man you’ve grown to feel so close to in such a short time. What thoughts have turned him so pensive? Are they the same thoughts that keep him up at night, burning oil until you can’t force your eyes to stay open any longer? What is this tortured, tragic side of Levi you’ve caught only glimpses of? 

You smile sadly and cross the room to the stove.

Sensing he’s not in a chatty mood (but when is he, really?) you prepare a pot of tea without speaking. When the kettle whistles you see Levi adjust out of the corner of your eye, as if he’s waking from a trance. You want desperately to know what’s on his mind. You wonder often how he spends his weeks away from you. Does he have friends in his squad? Is training hard on him? What was his most recent expedition like? But, like the rest of your musings on this enigmatic man, you never ask and you suspect he doesn’t want to tell.

“Everything all right, Captain?” you ask softly, setting a cup down in front of him.

“Hmph.”

You’ve spent enough time with him now to interpret his meaning.  _ Fine. Not good, not bad. Tired. _

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

He looks up at you, prompting you to go on. You go back to the counter to get the teapot.

“I saw you at the tavern,” you begin with your back to him. “Before we spoke, I mean. I saw you stand when that customer…got too familiar.”

When you turn back around with the tea Levi is looking at you with a queer expression.

“Why?” you ask simply, praying he’ll hear the layers of unasked questions buried in the single word.

He looks at you with sharp eyes for a second longer before speaking. “I didn’t like the way he put his hands on you,” he finally says in a low voice. 

Something stirs in your lower belly, something you can’t quite identify. It makes you squirm slightly, pleasantly.

“I didn’t know how capable you were of defending yourself.” His face moves slightly to suggest humour.

“Hm,” you hum with a small, smug smile.

You approach the table with the tea and stand at his side to pour it.

“Thank you anyway, Captain,” you say once his cup is full.

To your surprise, he catches the wrist of your free hand in his as you pull away.

“Why do you call me that?” he asks in that same low voice, like dark silk. “You’re not my subordinate.”

“Well,” you say, struggling to keep your voice even as he holds you in his grip. His voice is still low and thick, his eyes are dark. That feeling in your belly stirs again, deeper this time, and you catch your breath. “I am. If not by military rank than by the nature of our relationship.”

“Oh really?” he asks, and you can tell he’s being genuine and not mocking you for once. “How is it that you view our relationship?”

You swallow and try to collect your scrambling thoughts. “I consider you my employer.”

While Levi mulls this over, he slides his hand from your wrist to your palm and then to the tips of your fingers and back up again. You feel your breath hitch in your throat and your eyelids sink so you’re looking at him through your lashes. He doesn’t stop at your wrist, instead tracing the length of your inner forearm with his rough, callused fingers up to your elbow, sliding his hand under the wide sleeve of your robe. His touch leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake and his fingers dance along the crook of your elbow. You suppress a shiver despite the balmy summer weather. When the path of Levi’s touch brings his hand back down to yours he speaks again.

“Call me Levi,” he says, studying the smooth skin of your wrist. You feel his warm breath on your palm and your face flushes.

“Is that appropriate?” you whisper, suddenly recalling the pot of tea in your other hand. You clutch it tighter, as if it will ground you, pull you away from your suddenly sensual ruminations.

He almost snorts. “Nothing about what we’re doing here is appropriate, (Y/N),” he says in that same warm, languid voice. Your heart rate accelerates and you wonder if Levi can sense it in your wrist.

“Hm,” you hum again, finally meeting his eyes. His pupils are dilated. “All right, Levi.”

At the sound of his name he brings the back of his hand, yours still in its hold, to his mouth. He breathes deeply, inhaling the sweet, subtle scent of roses that always seems to cling to you, and exhales softly through his nose so it tickles the tips of your fingers. His heated gaze shifts away from yours as his hooded eyes sink shut. You wish with every fiber of your being that his searing lips were on your skin. You imagine you can feel them through his palm.

Suddenly, time seems to pick up again. The hands on the clock resume ticking and you’re both reminded that, outside your kitchen, the rest of the world has continued to turn. Levi loosens his hold on your hand as his eyes flutter open and, reluctantly, you let it slide back to your side.

“There’s enough tea for another cup,” you say, thoroughly flustered, and turn your back to Levi to set the pot down and conceal your flaming cheeks. The left sleeve of your robe slips from your shoulder and, if you had been looking, you would see the way Levi’s smoldering gaze falls to the exposed skin.

You turn your head to face him without really looking. “Goodnight, Levi.”

He says nothing as your retreat back to the bedroom.

* * *

When you wake **up** late that night it’s to the feel of Levi’s lips pressed against yours.

You keep your eyes shut; the room is shrouded in darkness anyway. You inhale against his mouth before eagerly responding to the kiss. His tongue slips between your teeth to dance against yours, hot and wet. Eagerly — maybe too eagerly — you reach up and pull him down on top of you, threading your fingers through his black hair. His weight settles on top of you, one leg on either side of your hips, his hard torso and defined muscles pressing against your breasts. Nothing is seperating your skin from his but the thin fabric of your nightshift.

You run your hands down his bare back as he begins kissing from the corner of your mouth to the shell of your ear and down your neck. He nips at the skin over your collarbone, making you gasp.

The blanket has somehow been kicked away. You lift your legs and reposition yourselves so that you can wrap them around his waist and pull him even closer, his pelvis now flush against yours. Is he wearing anything below the waist? You feel his hardness against the place between your legs that is yearning for him. Your breath is coming in desperate pants as he runs his hands up your thighs, pushing up the skirt of your nightshift, sinking his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips. Feverishly, you use your grip on his hair to pull his face back up to yours, hungrily seeking his mouth with your lips.

“Levi…” you moan softly between kisses.

Your eyes fly open and you shoot upright in bed. Your chest is heaving, rising and falling with your panting breaths, but yours are the only ones that can be heard. The stillness of the bedroom whispers to you that you’re alone.

Desperately clinging to the last tendrils of your dream, you clutch your blanket to your chest and run a hand through your hair. With a sense of wonder you drop the blanket to slide a finger into the folds between your legs. It comes back wet and glistening, smelling of your arousal.

“Ha,” you exhale, now forced to accept the undeniable attraction you feel for Levi. You had fallen asleep craving more of his touch after the bizarre interaction in the kitchen. Your subconscious evidently was unwilling to let you escape your desire in sleep.

You fall back against the pillows and study the ceiling. Without even realizing, you rub your thighs together, still imagining the feel of Levi’s skin, his lips, his erection.

Your eyes sink closed and your hand creeps back to your panties. You slip your hand inside and your lips part at the feeling of your fingers against your wet sex. Unbidden, wanton thoughts of Levi creep back into your head. If only he were here with you, as he was in your dream, all hard muscles and smooth nakedness and roaming lips. You imagine your fingers, fervent in their ministrations, are Levi’s. He kisses you as he did in your dream, his hot, moist lips mercilessly seeking yours. You slip a curved finger inside yourself and bite down on your lip, hard, to stifle a groan. You picture Levi crouching over you and using his strong hands to spread your legs for him. In your mind’s eye, your finger becomes Levi’s cock, stiff and unrelenting as he pushes it inside you, in and out, tip to hilt. You throw your wrist to your mouth and bite down to cover your moan as an orgasm wracks through you. 

Panting, you relax into the bed and let your quivering legs slide back down to the mattress. Several minutes pass in which you lie in the afterglow of your orgasm. Finally, you adjust your clothing back to its rightful places and settle under the duvet. Your cheeks are burning with a private shame.  _ If Levi knew…  _ The thought makes you wither with embarrassment and thrum with excitement at the same time.

You toss and turn in an attempt to reclaim sleep. Once it’s apparent you’ve let it slip too far from your grasp, you throw the blanket aside and get up. A glass of water might set your mind right.

Quietly, you glide to the bedroom door and open it slowly, praying Levi is asleep. Moonlight illuminates the living area just enough for you to make out the shapes of the table, chairs, and Levi’s sleeping figure in the cot he unrolls for bed at night.

You tiptoe around him to the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water, drinking it down like you’ve been roaming the desert for days. After a moment, you set it down in the sink and, after a brief hesitation, get a second glass from the cupboard and fill it to leave out for Levi.

Your pad over to his sleeping form and crouch beside him to gently set the glass down. Your eyes travel to his bare chest, rising and falling with his steady breaths, then to his face. He looks young, much younger than you know him to be. Your eyes settle on his lips, slightly parted. You press your fore and middle fingers to your own mouth, envisioning the way his lips had felt against yours in the throes of your imagination.

A strand of hair has settled over his right eye. Without thinking, you reach out and tenderly brush it aside. With that, you stand and return to bed.

At the sound of the door clicking shut Levi lets his eyes flutter open. He glances at the glass of water you left for him, a warm feeling spreading across his chest. He sits up to take a sip and absentmindedly runs his hand over the place on his forehead your fingertips had brushed.

The next morning neither of you mentions the sweet moments you shared the night before. You return to your weekly routine like always. This time, when he leaves, you begin counting down the days until you’ll see him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone else spent all of quarantine sitting on their dumb ass, baking bread and pining away? I certainly have, and as I bang out this fic something tells me that no matter how wonderful and delicious Levi may be, you, my dear protagonist, are gonna get tired of this maid-sama ish real quick.  
> But what do I know? Because on the other hand, things are heating up... *waggles eyebrows*  
> Keep an eye out for the next chapter~!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com)~  
> Chapter 130's leak ignited a burning fire in my belly. Hence update.  
> Anyone else up to date with the manga? My heart explodes each month at its release.  
> Anyway, enough of that. On with the chapter!

_ Survey Corps HQ _

“Oi, Levi, are you even listening to me?”  
“Not at all. But I can smell you from beyond the walls. When was the last time you took a shower, shitty glasses?”

“Hm,” Hange wonders. “Couldn’t tell you. What I  _ can _ tell you, if you were listening, is this new idea I’m fleshing out for equipment to catch a live Titan. I’m sending drafts over to the engineers and—”

“Please,” says Levi, “spare me.”

Hange looks up from the papers scattered haphazardly across the table before her. How she can see a thing on the page in the dim lamplight is a mystery. Levi’s sitting opposite the brunette Squad Leader, sipping at a cup of tea and occasionally grimacing, as if he’s not enjoying the taste.

“Hey, Cap’n, why do I feel like you’re in an even worse mood than usual?” asks Hange playfully.

As she’s speaking, Oluo, Petra, and Mike enter the dining room, chatting casually.

“I can tell you,” Petra interjects, taking a seat beside Levi. Oluo sits as well and looks at the petite girl with a raised brow, prompting her to go on. “He’s got himself a girlfriend back home. He misses her while he’s here.”

“Oh, ho!” exclaims Hange. Oluo’s looking back and forth between Petra and Levi to see how the Captain will react. Mike, entirely disinterested, wanders off in search of something to eat.

Levi makes every effort to ignore them, preferring to wallow in his own thoughts. As it stands, he should admit to himself that Petra’s not at all far off. He’s become increasingly aggravated with his performance in training drills and strategy meetings alike. And he can attribute his distraction to one thing: you.

Levi’s blood boils at the thought. Yesterday, in a meeting with Commander Erwin and the Squad Leaders, his thoughts had drifted so far from the meeting subject that he walked out having both contributed and retained nothing. The day before, in vertical maneuvering drills, he misjudged his angle and entirely missed the target with his anchor, stumbling a full three meters towards the ground before sinking it into a sturdy branch and righting himself. His squad had politely (and nervously) acted like they hadn’t seen in an attempt to avoid angering their Captain further.

But worst of all, this morning at breakfast, it was  _ Hange _ who pointed out his white shirt had a stain on the collar. How could he miss that?

So when she pipes up again he just can’t keep his cool.

“Guess that explains why you’ve been fucking off to who knows where on your days off,” she says, kicking her feet up on the table, gear drafts forgotten. “Gotta make time for the missus. I’m glad you’ve finally pulled your mop out of your ass and let loose a little. When’s the wedding?”

Levi slams his cup of tea down on the table so hard it’s a small miracle the ceramic doesn’t shatter. Petra starts beside him and shrinks into her chair. Oluo chuckles anxiously.

“You’re embarrassing the guy, Squad Leader. Let a man have his secrets,” he says, glancing sideways at Levi and hoping he said the right thing.

Levi’s left eye twitches.

“You listen to me, four-eyes,” he says, pointing an accusing finger in her face.” I’m not going to sit here and tolerate your shit-eating grin at my expense.”

Hange laughs happily.

Mike returns with a loaf of bread as Eld enters the dining room and joins their company.

“Have you all heard the MP brigade finally has that girl from the Underground in custody?” he asks, pulling out a chair. “The one they’ve been hunting down the past six months or so?”

“You don’t mean the one who’s brother they…you know, tortured to death,” inquires Petra, finishing lamely.

No one seems to notice Levi go as tense as a taut 3DM line.

“Yeah, that one,” says Eld with a frown. “Apparently it took so long because of how mismanaged birth records are down there, but they claim they’ve got the one. Turned her over to the Military Police’s First Interior Squad this morning.”

“Oh, what a waste,” Hange laments, “throwing away the poor guy’s life like that. And now they’ll do the same to the sister.” A slightly maniacal glint enters her eyes. “I would’ve loved to get my hands on them to run some  _ real _ tests. Such a shame the Survey Corps couldn’t have been the ones to nab them.”

“You’re joking,” snarls Levi darkly, ignoring Hange and looking pointedly at Eld.

“Eh, no, it’s not a joke. Apparently the intel turned up in the weekly report from the MPs. Funnily enough, they caught her aboveground. Stopped her near the stairwell for citizenship papers and brought her in when she couldn't produce any. She was just a barmaid; probably has no idea what’s going on.”

With that, Levi stands abruptly and storms from the room.

“Captain,” calls Petra. “Are you all right?”

He doesn’t grant her so much as a backwards glance before vanishing down the hall.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eld consoles her matter of factly. “He’s been on edge all week.”

“This girl’s not anyone he might know, is she?” asks Oluo.

“No clue,” Eld says. “Her name’s Fara something, if I’m remembering right. Worked in a tavern not far from the southern pass.”

Hange frowns thoughtfully. “I suppose if any of us were to know her it would be Levi.” 

A pensive silence falls over the table.

“Still,” Hange continues. “Not likely.”

Upstairs, Levi is pounding on the door to Commander Erwin’s office.

“Come in.”

Levi rushes through the door unceremoniously, crosses the room and plants both hands on the desk.

Erwin looks up from his paperwork to regard Levi with icy blue eyes set beneath full brows. His expression is impassive.

“Erwin,” begins Levi. “Permission to begin leave tonight — right now — instead of in the morning.”

Erwin considers Levi’s request for only a moment. “I thought you needed the night to wrap up the draft for the reconnaissance briefing?”

Levi turns away and crosses his arms. “I do— or I did,” he says, lifting one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “But— just give me the night then. I’ll come back early and have it for you tomorrow.” He turns back to look at Erwin. “It’s for personal reasons.”

Erwin chooses not to address that, in all the years he’s worked alongside Levi, it’s only been in the past several months that he’s developed any semblance of a private life away from the Survey Corps. Let alone taken so many consistent personal days.

“All right by me then,” Erwin says, returning to his papers. His face reveals nothing, certainly not concern for how he’s never seen Levi this flustered before.

Levi is already heading out the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow—”

“Levi,” says Erwin, stopping him in his tracks. “Take tonight. Just come back tomorrow ready to stay sharp while you’re on duty.”

Levi meets his eye and nods with conviction. A moment later he’s gone.

In Erwin’s head, gears are turning.

* * *

You awake with a start. Someone is coming into the house. Didn’t you lock the door? Why are they making so much noise? 

Your heart is beating fast. You sit up, frantically rubbing sleep from your eyes. You scan the room for something — anything — you can use as a weapon. Silently, you curse yourself for stowing your knife away during the night.

The bedroom door swings open and Levi is there, breathing hard. He’s dressed in full uniform and looks like he’s raced here from HQ at full speed.

“Levi?” you balk. “What the hell is going on?”

Your mind is working a mile a minute as you take in his frenzied appearance. It’s the middle of the night; he’s never turned up so late before, much less in this state.

Before you can reach any conclusions he’s crossed the room, knelt on the bed and grabbed you by the arms, his fingers digging into your biceps hard enough to hurt.

“Levi, you’re scaring—”

“(Y/N),” he cuts you off. You can faintly smell his perspiration. Through the low light of the moon you can make out an expression you’ve never seen on him before.

_ Is it fear? _

“Have you left the house today?”

“What are you—”

“Answer me!”

His urgency startles you.

“No! No, not today. I went to the market two days ago but I haven’t been out since.” He exhales, relief apparent on his face. “Levi,” you say softly. “You’re hurting me.”

Slowly, his grip on your arms loosens. When he takes his hands away there are red marks left on your skin.

“Say something,” you tell him.

Instead he lifts his arms again and pulls you close against him, one hand on your hair. The leather of his jacket is pressed against your cheek. The embrace is awkward; you’re sitting upright beneath the blanket, legs out in front of you, while Levi is kneeling on your right side. Still, you raise your arms to hold him, too, and he clutches you closer.

“There were reports of unrest in the area,” Levi murmurs into your hair. His breathing is finally becoming more regular.

Your heart swells at the thought of him hurrying home to ensure you’re safe. You nod against his chest and choose not to pursue the subject further, as if speaking would shatter the moment into a million pieces.

A beat passes and Levi lets you go so he can sit on the edge of bed with his feet on the floor. You kick off the blanket and swing your legs around to sit beside him in the darkness. His eyes shift to the smooth skin of your bare shoulders, exposed in the sleeveless summer nightshift. He lifts a hand to absentmindedly finger the thin strap. His touch is electric.

As you look over at him, Levi pulls his hand back before shrugging off his military issued jacket and — shockingly — dropping it in a heap on the floor. He sighs heavily and rests his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. The cuffs of his shirt are pushed over his elbows and you take in the sight of the strong veins under the ivory skin of his forearms.

“What am I doing here?” he mumbles into his hands. You don’t answer; you know the question isn’t for you.

Almost on instinct you lift a hand and rest it on the back of his neck, running a finger along the nape in a calming circular motion. Levi lifts his head to look at you. You can tell he has some wise-ass remark on the tip of his tongue but you beat him to it.

“Take the bedroom tonight,” you say. His eyes narrow. “Please,” you add. “You seem to have had a hard night. It’s late to be setting up the cot and sleeping on the floor.”

He grunts and you take the noise to mean he agrees. You watch as he lifts his hands to begin unbuttoning his shirt. When you move to stand, however, Levi takes your hand and tugs you back down.

“I’ll sleep on one side and you on the other,” he says resolutely.

A fluttering feeling swarms in your stomach. You nod and ignore it.

Something comes over you. Maybe it’s his hand on yours, the late hour or the way his gaze keeps falling to your shoulders and throat. Whatever it may be, when you lift your hands to finish unbuttoning Levi’s shirt he doesn’t stop you.

As you near his waist, your fingers occasionally brushing his skin, you take in what you can see of his torso and the toned muscles of his chest. Your face feels warm as you survey the planes of his abdomen, riddled with faint white scars. Are you the only one breathing a little heavier or is Levi as well?

Once they’re all unclasped you reach up to his shoulders and push the shirt off from underneath the fabric, your hands flat against his upper back, then down his arms. He complies without question, adjusting his arms so you can push the sleeves off.

Levi stands and begins shedding the rest of his uniform as you get back into bed and move to the further side to leave space for him. Shamelessly, you watch as he unbuckles his harnesses and steps out of the white pants. Is it thanks to the vertical maneuvering gear that from shoulder to ankle each muscle is perfectly lithe and sculpted?

When he’s down to his briefs, he meets your eyes and climbs into bed beside you.

You make yourself comfortable on your side, facing him, and Levi settles on his back with about six inches between you. Your heart is pounding hard against your ribcage. It takes great effort to keep your breaths even and controlled. Hungrily, you take in the sight of him in bed with you, almost entirely undressed. His eyes are closed but his chest is rising and falling quickly. Is it possible you’re affecting him the same way he’s affecting you? Your mouth is dry, your cheeks are flushed and there are muscles deep within you clenching deliciously. There seems to be a strong magnetic current drawing you to him. You nearly tremble at the thought of closing the distance between you, acting on your most private fantasies here, tonight.

Levi lets a small exhale escape parted lips but he stubbornly keeps his eyes shut. He lifts one arm up to rest his head on his hand and you’re intoxicated by the sheer masculinity of his coarse underarm hair and the way the muscles flex.

“Go to sleep,” Levi mutters, still refusing to look at you. Your mouth opens part way in a silent gasp.

_ What is happening to me? _

Blushing an even deeper red, you wonder how you could ever fall asleep like this but, slowly, you do, that heat radiating between you and the Captain as your eyes grow heavy.

An hour or so later, still half asleep, you realize Levi’s arms have circled your waist and your chests are pressed together. Your legs are tangled and his face is buried in the crook of your neck. You wonder vaguely if you should swim to a more wakeful state, but you can hardly break the surface before you’re pulled back under again.

Finally, the morning light wakes you fully and your eyelids flutter open. This time, you’re certain you weren’t dreaming. You turn to your side and sigh.

Levi’s already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a weak woman and I could not resist the sirens' calls of the timeless fanfic classic "aNd THeRe wAS oNLy OnE bED!"  
> And so here we are.  
> How did you enjoy the little glimpse into Levi's life at the Survey Corps? How do we feel about this shocking new intel from the Military Police? Will you and/or Levi ever stop dancing around this _burning attraction_ and get jiggy with it? (Spoiler: this is a slow burn fic so probs not LOL) Find out next time!  
> And thank you always for your comments and kudos <3 They really keep me goin' xx


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, let's chat ^.^ ~ [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com)  
> Thank you kindly for the wonderful comments on the last chapter xx

“Listen here, (Y/N). Grow up. He’s just a guy. You’re acting like a little girl with a crush.”

Your reflection stares back at you in the hand mirror.

It has nothing to say.

“Ugh,” you groan, putting it facedown on the chest. Your pep talks have done nothing to distract from the feeling that settles in your stomach at every thought of Levi. There’s no more chalking it up to heartburn or indigestion, not at this point. It’s time to accept you’ve fallen completely in love.

Nearly six months have passed since that night you met Levi — this time as an adult — in the Underground. You shut your eyes and think back to how unsettled you were by him in the tavern. How glad you are to have been wrong about his intentions.

Days and weeks have since gone by where you keep strictly to yourself and quietly do what you can to demonstrate your gratitude and, more recently, romantic feelings for Levi. The house stays clean, the tea stays hot and you diligently pour over your notes from the weekly reading and writing lessons. While Levi is away, you copy letters, words, and basic sentences over and over again in the notebook he produced for you months ago. When he’s here, you sit with him at the table and read aloud from books he brings with him and transcribe anything he may recite to you. It’s slow going but it’s getting done. Levi’s attitude towards the lessons are achingly passive but his patience for you seems endless.

When you contemplate the turn your life has taken you see the many great things that came with it. You’re thankful for a clean, sturdy home, a safe neighborhood, someone you care about being so close (even if he’s just out of reach). And yet all the time you spend apart from Levi feels…empty. More and more you’ve found your mind wandering to memories of your days working at the tavern. Was the tired ache in your bones after a hard shift so bad? Was it not even a bit rewarding to apply yourself to your responsibilities, get them done and reap the rewards? You had customers, countless interactions, not to mention your casual friendships with Sebastian and Fara. What do they think happened to you? Will you ever have relationships like that in this new life? Your days have begun to feel stagnant, like the calm waters of a pond reflecting the sky above it. No motion except for your time with Levi, the only ripples on a surface that is otherwise as smooth as glass.

Occasionally, your subconscious rears her ugly head and spews doubts.  _ Levi is controlling you _ . No, he’s protecting you.  _ He’s isolating you, cutting you off from the world.  _ He worries about you!  _ No, he’s hiding something _ . Impossible!

You would have to be dense not to consider these things even once. However you are content in your ignorance. For now.

Levi is due to be home either tonight or in the morning and, regardless of any of this, there is no reigning in the swarm of butterflies that infest your insides at the thought. Frankly, it’s gotten out of hand, especially in the weeks since his abrupt midnight arrival.

Things quite stubbornly returned to normal between you two when he came home the following week. Still, you cling to the memory of his arms around you, his face in the crook of your neck, his calloused hands on your skin, all like they’re a lifeline.

“Freya, what am I going to do?”

The cat blinks at you slowly from her place in your lap.

“ _ Meow. _ ”

You sigh.

That night you climb into bed after staying up as late as you can bear. You finally have to acknowledge that Levi won’t be back until the morning.

When you wake up there’s still no sign. Fine; it’s early still. You dress carefully, secure your hair with a sash, and head to the kitchen to find something to do.

After failed attempts at sewing, then reading, then nervously cleaning already clean surfaces, you resign yourself to a morning spent watching the hands of the clock tick by. Eventually the sun rises to its midday peak and you allow yourself to get a bit excited. Now he’ll come.

He doesn’t.

“All right,” you mutter to yourself. Freya meows to get your attention. “Are you trying to distract me?” you ask her playfully. A positive distraction is welcome, so you feed the tortie a treat and try to play with her for a while without looking at the time.

When he still doesn’t come you decide to keep busy in the garden. Basking in the sunlight is something you’ll never get tired of after a short lifetime in the Underground.

And there’s no clock to watch outside.

After a while you hear the sound of hooves beating pavement and look up excitedly. Your face falls when you recognize a neighbor from down the street. He lifts a hand to wave. You wave back with a weak smile and return to pulling weeds.

Once you’ve picked away at the garden to the point where not a single thing is amiss you decide it’s time to call it a day. You stand and stretch your back, watching the sky turn to shades of pink and orange even more vibrant than what you dreamt of in your life below the surface.

Today, the beautiful sunset fills you with nothing but unease.

_ Where is Levi? _

You take a calming breath and direct your attention to the wall on the horizon.  _ What is on the other side?  _ you ponder, not for the first time. Before it was always,  _ what is on the surface?  _ Your teeth find your lip and you consider how your dreams have evolved with your surroundings. You might not realize it yet, but a yearning has started to fester within you. A yearning for something more.

Much to your dismay, another night passes with no sign of Levi. You struggle to maintain your normal routine but the nagging worry that sets over you makes even the most pleasurable tasks seem cumbersome. You sit with your sewing in your lap without making a single stitch. If you open a book you stare at the words without reading a thing. When you pick up your pen it hovers over the page without making even one mark.

When you reach the eleventh day since his last departure your worry evolves into aching dread.

_ Something has happened to him. _

You take to pacing around the house, your teeth worrying at the delicate skin of your bottom lip. It never occurs to you that, if the worst has happened, official Survey Corps documents would stop arriving in the mail for Levi. No, you’re too distraught to reach this conclusion.

Instead, you begin to fret over how you  _ would _ learn that something has happened. If he’s alive, what if he’s been hurt? What if he’s been maimed? What will you do, where will you go? You’re not family; does anyone even know you’re here? Will you have to face another military official knocking on the door to tell you a loved one is dead? Or will you have to seek out the information and learn it on your own?

You pace some more as yet another day turns to night. You resolve that if, on the fifteenth day there’s been no word, you’ll find out where he is from anyone who might help. Screw Levi’s demand that you keep to yourself.

He comes home on the fourteenth day.

You’ve already resigned yourself to another day of anxiety and pacing when he comes through the door. You’re stirring some porridge at the stove for your breakfast and, when the door swings open, you’re so badly startled that you shriek.

“What’re you yelling for?” Levi asks darkly. His expression is unreadable.

“Levi,” you breathe. “You’re all right.”

“Yes, and?” he says, setting his things down and pulling off his jacket. You quickly scan his body for any sign of injury as he pulls out his chair to sit down.

You stay quiet for a moment, waiting for an explanation. He never offers one.

Without asking, you take two bowls down from the cupboard and fill both with porridge before joining Levi at the table.

You eat without tasting as you wait for him to say something.

He doesn’t.

“I was worried about you,” you admit after several minutes of eating in silence.

“What for?”

You look at him. He looks back.

“What  _ for _ ?” you ask, incredulous. “It’s been two weeks since I heard from you.”

Levi gives you a long hard look. “Were you missing your allowance that badly?”

You gape at him. “Hey,” you say, hurt, “why would your mind go there?”

Levi continues to regard you without one emotion spelled out on his features. “What else could you possibly have been worried over?”

“Is that a joke?” you demand, your temper quickly rising. “I could have  _ possibly  _ been worried over your well being, ever think of that?”

“No, why would I? We both know you have nowhere else to go. Surely that’s what this is about.”

Now there is obvious contempt spelled out on his face. You stand and grab the bowls from the table, disregarding that Levi’s spoon is still poised for another bite. Angrily, you deposit them in the sink with a bang.

“Are you trying to push me away?” you demand, your voice quivering with repressed vexation. “If something’s happened why won’t you tell me? I don’t know anything about your life outside this house.” You walk back to the table, some of the anger leaving your voice as you approach him. “Talk to me. Why are you saying these things?”

You lift a hand to rest it on his shoulder. Levi sees it and stands before you can.

“Do you even understand how much I’ve done for you? How  _ far  _ I’ve gone for you, making your shitty little life my business?” His words pierce you like knives. “I don’t owe you even  _ half  _ of what I’ve already given you, and now you think you can order me to talk?” The tone he uses is low and dangerous.

“Okay, sure, pick a fight with me instead,” you spit in response, your concern slipping away to be replaced with agitation. You feel suddenly defensive. “You’re forgetting that I didn’t ask for you to make my ‘shitty little life’ your problem at all.” Your voice is rising. “In fact, you hardly gave me any choice in the matter. You thought you could just hunt me down and force me into being your  _ maid _ ?” You gape at him. “Isolate me here so my entire shitty life revolves around you? Was I a fool to think you cared about me at all?” Your voice betrays your emotions at the end, quivering slightly. “You thought you could throw my dead brother in my face and I would bend to your will?”

This, at least, seems to derail him somewhat.

“You don’t know anything,” Levi growls. His voice remains even but murderous.

“Then explain it to me!”

His bland expression turns lethal. “Maybe I was wrong to do what I did. What do I know? But I cannot  _ begin  _ to explain the risk — the lengths I’ve gone to to keep you from—” confusion settles on your face. “Argh,” he snarls and grips the back of his chair hard enough you worry the wood will give. “To think that so much of my time and energy has gone into you, all those hours I spend away but my head is here,” he looks at you and slams his fist down on the table to punctuate the word  _ here _ . The sound makes you jump.

“You’re not making any sense,” you tell him in a shaky voice. His anger has put you on your guard.

_ This is Levi,  _ you remind yourself.  _ He would never hurt me.  _

“Please, slow down. Tell me—”

“It’s not worth it.”

Someone else might say how reasonable he’s being, not once raising his voice, the only indicator of his feelings being the assault on the table. But you can see it; the tension in his jaw, the dangerous gleam in his eye. He’s irate. Something is eating at him but you have a sneaking suspicion it’s not you. At least, not exactly.

But still.  _ It’s not worth it _ , he said. Your anger flares up again.

“I knew you looked down on me. You thought I was a prostitute and you could never really shake it, huh? Even when you found out you were wrong you couldn’t bring yourself to descend to my level.” You grit your teeth. “But you took me in on your own prerogative. You can’t just treat me like an object.”

His eyes flash with something you don’t recognize. “You’re wrong. I have every reason not to believe that at all.”  
Your chest rises and falls erratically with emotion. _What does that mean?_ You gnash your teeth together and bite back another anger-fueled rebuttal.

A moment passes before you speak, quietly now, tensely. “I don’t really know anything about you, Levi. I know you were once a notorious thug in the Underground and I know that now you’re ‘Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. That’s all. Give me something here.” You despise the ill-masked pleading your voice takes on at the end.

“Don’t be stupid. You know me. Probably better than most.” The last part is quiet.

You chew your bottom lip, for a moment lost in thought. Levi’s eyes flicker to your mouth despite himself.

“I believe that you can know someone without knowing anything about them.”

Enough time goes by without a response that you think the subject has been dropped. Then he speaks again.

“My mother worked in a brothel when she got pregnant with me.”

This fact doesn’t surprise you much at all. Many of your acquaintances from the Underground come from similar sad backgrounds. And yet… it’s some insight. Finally. You nod morosely and, feeling like you’ve calmed down enough, retake your seat at the table. A second later Levi follows suit.

“So that means you don’t know who—”

“No,” Levi interjects. He doesn’t need you to finish to know you were asking who his father is.

Neither of you are facing each other, as if struggling to maintain neutral ground.

“How old were you when she died?”

“Young,” he replies cryptically. “Young enough that I couldn’t survive on my own.”

“So what did you do?”

“Someone took me in.” He meets your eyes now with his cold gaze. “Kenny the Ripper.”

You feel your jaw clench and your mouth set in a hard line.

“I’m not a hero, (Y/N). Don’t forget that.”

Your blood is pumping loudly in your ears. No, he certainly has proven he’s not a hero at all.

You mull this over in silence for a moment. If you were a child when your mother died could you have found the will to go off on your own?

The answer comes to you quickly.

“I guess you’re not,” you say tersely. “But,” your tone softens, “you somehow got to where you are now.”

“That wasn’t under very heroic circumstances either.”

He reads the question written on your face.

“I was hired to infiltrate the Survey Corps and kill Erwin Smith.”

_ The current Commander? _

“He knew the whole time. He persuaded me to use my abilities to do something for humanity instead.”

You’re nearly reeling at all Levi has indulged. And yet, your mind has wandered to your childhood home in the Underground, to Levi and Farlan talking with Kristoff as if it were days ago, not years.

“Farlan and Isabel. Did they enlist with you?” you’re inspired suddenly to ask.

He nods.

“And are they—?”

“Dead. Titans, though, not men.”

You sigh and shut your eyes.

_ This is a cruel world _ .

Not for the first time, you follow your instincts and take Levi’s hand in yours. His steely gaze doesn’t soften at all but, like before, he makes no move to pull away. You study his eyes. He looks distant. Almost… shattered.

“You don’t owe me anything. It’s not beyond me that I’m in your debt, not the other way around.”  _ Will I ever be free?  _ The thought occurs to you fleetingly and is gone again before you can dwell on it. “But,” you continue, “perhaps, if you let me, I can do more for you than keep house.”

Levi’s frown shifts in a subtle way that tells you you’ve reached him. Or at least scratched the surface. 

“There’s no shame in letting someone in.”

Your soft words force a deep rivet between you and you know as soon as they leave your lips that you’ve pushed him too far. He pulls his hand from yours and stands. With one last, hard look, he abruptly turns and leaves out the front door.

A trembling sigh escapes you and your lip quivers, but you refuse to cry.

_ Levi. What are you running from? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst has entered the chat.  
> There's some tension here, huh? And not just the sexual kind anymore...  
> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! Your feedback is truly my bread and butter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com) ~!  
> Reading comments on the last chapter made my heart oh so full. I hope you enjoy this update in return xx

The day is gray and overcast, a slight chill in the air promising that fall is near. You hoist your basket higher on your hip and select a couple of potatoes from the market stall you’ve stopped at. By now you’ve earned a bit of a reputation around your small town for being quiet and somewhat of a shut in. This is exactly what you were aiming for, at Levi’s request, so you’re content to be largely ignored by the townspeople out and about, especially the gaggles of gossipy women.

Today, however, you’re lost even further in your own thoughts than usual. Your typical friendly smile and brief hello’s have been replaced with curt pleases and thank you’s and a deeply pensive look.

This same look has riddled your features for nearly a week, ever since your conversation with Levi. That night, he came home looking very sullen, a gloomy fog hovering around you both as you fixed your dinner in silence. Sat at the table with nothing but the clank of forks against dishes to keep you company, Levi had attempted to make amends. At least, you think that’s what it was.

_ Our arrangement is unique,  _ you recall him saying.

_ I know,  _ you had replied, daring to meet his eye for the first time that night.

_ Don’t ask questions you’re not ready to hear the answers to. _

You had blinked at him across the table.  _ I don’t. _

In reality, his close ties to your father’s killer had left you thoroughly rattled. After a night of tossing and turning in bed, grasping at only shreds of light sleep, you had failed still to associate Levi and his gentle touches and fleetingly warm gestures with those of a murderer. Or, you suppose, a murderer’s protegee. You understand, of course, that this line of thinking is naive. But a life in the Underground surrounded by its thieves and lowlifes has desensitized you to crudeness and vulgarity.

It also taught you that what someone does to survive often is not an accurate representation of their character.

Levi had returned your gaze before going on.  _ Then let’s continue on exactly as we have. Keep to yourself and don’t ask too many questions. Less room for regrets. _

You had only nodded, confused and mystified by his ominous pseudo-apology. Never before had you felt like a mere servant, but you had suddenly began wondering if that’s really all you are.

You’re still mulling it over at the market as you pay for the produce you’ve filled your basket with. You’re questioning what you thought you understood of your relationship with the Captain. Your feelings for him are still undeniable, and yet they’re seeming more and more fool-hearted as you revisit that bleak conversation in your mind, over and over. Was that his attempt to put you in your place? Or was it truly the best he could do by means of reconciliation? Could he possibly be disregarding the tender moments you’ve shared, the quiet companionship that’s grown between you?

No, you decide. If anything he’s trying to escape them.

_ But why? _

Your deep-rooted longing won’t allow you to accept that he seems to be pushing you away when what you want so desperately is to be let in. You refuse to acknowledge that it might be as simple as the fact that he doesn’t want you. 

_ But did I imagine it all? _

Perhaps you’re in denial—

“Excuse me, miss?” 

You’re startled from your thoughts as you leave the stall. A middle aged woman is standing before you, holding a basket not unlike yours. She carries a bit of weight and has a kind, warm face. She smiles at you.

“Yes?” you reply politely.

“I thought it was about time I approached you. I see you here nearly every week but have never said so much as hello. My name is Martha. My family and I live just north of here.”

You return her kind smile, pleased despite yourself at her friendliness. “I’m (Y/N). I’m a bit south, closer to the wall.”

“Oh, I know,” says Martha. “News spreads like wildfire around here. It was the talk of the town when Captain Levi brought his young wife home that night, thinking he could be sneaky about it.” She chuckles amicably as you begin to blush and stutter.

“Wife?” you ask, thinking back to the first night you were here, assuming almost the same thing. 

_ So what am I, your new housewife?  _ you had asked Levi, much to his chagrin.

“No, no. I’m only a housekeeper.” Martha’s smile falters a bit. “He brought me on because, you know, he’s away on duty so much of the time.”

“Right. I see,” says Martha, her smile now quite forced. “Excuse me for being presumptuous.”

You can read the thought behind her dull brown eyes, the words she left unsaid:  _ mistress, whore. _

“Don’t worry,” you say, also through a tight smile and clenched teeth, “I understand the situation is unique.”

You don’t realize until you’ve said it that your words echo Levi’s.

“Very,” Martha agrees. “Hardly anyone in these parts has the means to hire household help.”

“Hm,” you hum through pursed lips, entirely unsure what kind of response that’s supposed to garner. “Well, I’m sure we’d both like to get home before the rain comes. It was a pleasure meeting you, Martha.” Your tone implies it was anything but.

She looks relieved to be free of this unexpectedly awkward conversation. “You too, (Y/N). Stay well in that house all alone.”

You force another smile and walk off towards the wall. 

_ Is this what Levi was trying to protect me from, having me keep to myself?  _ You wonder, a flutter of appreciation coming alive in your chest in spite of recent events.  _ Surely he knew people would talk once they found out I was living in his house as anything other than his wife. _

You recall her point about household help and her vaguely threatening parting words.  _ Why would Levi hire me if it were so impractical, no matter how generous he may feel towards Kristoff’s sister? _

“I hear that was the final nail in the coffin, whatever that last test was. Snuffed out like a candle,” comes a man’s voice some ways off.

“It’s a miracle she made it this long, if you think about it. I hear they can be ruthless, huh?”

You’re approaching the path along the wall you take home when you overhear the soldiers talking. You glance up, your own musings interrupted, but intrigued nonetheless. The roses on their jackets help you identify them as members of the Garrison. They’re reclining against a couple of overturned crates, passing a bottle back and forth. Their setup is only slightly removed from the market, so you hurry to a jewelry stall within earshot and pretend to be fascinated by items you’re neither interested in nor can afford.

“Where’d you learn this, anyway?” the younger one asks, taking a swig from the bottle.

“I got a buddy in the Interior Military Police. Low ranking but he still hears stuff. Once he’s got a few drinks in him his lips start flapping.”

“Damn,” comes the reply. You peer around a display of brooches. The older man, upper lip concealed by a thick mustache, is nodding.

“Awful stuff but necessary, I suppose. Remember when they snatched that kid up after Wall Maria fell? Might have even been about your age. I’m sure he met the same fate.”

“Exactly, my age, actually,” the young one says. “Kristoff and I were in the Cadet Corps together.” Your eyes go wide and your blood runs cold. “Back then no one coulda told you what happened to him. Rumors only started flying when they announced the sister was wanted.”

“Hey, miss, if you’re not buying anything then scram.”

You glance at the vendor, snapped from your engrossment in the soldiers’ conversation. It’s enough to get your feet moving and before you know it, you’re stopped in front of the soldiers.

“Hey,” you say, entirely unaware of the eerily vacant expression on your face. You struggle to come up with what to say next.

“You okay there, miss?” the mustachioed soldier asks. You catch a whiff of the alcohol they’re sharing.

You’re looking at the younger soldier. Up close you see his round features and hazel eyes.

“I knew someone named Kristoff,” you say in a small voice, your grip tightening around the handle of your basket. “A long time ago,” you add, careful not to give anything away.

“You eavesdropping or something?” he asks gruffly.

You ignore him and wait for a response. He unabashedly looks over your mauve dress, his gaze lingering on your waist, then exposed collarbone, before deciding to continue.

“I doubt we’re thinking of the same guy,” he says, finally meeting your eyes again. “My Kristoff had a shit upbriging in the Underground. A nice girl like you wouldn’t have known him.”

Something inside you seems to shatter. “What—?” Your voice breaks and you clear your throat to cover it up. “What happened to him? What were you two talking about?”

“That’s government business, miss,” says Kristoff’s former comrade.

“Now, now,” his older companion says. “She’s askin’ nice enough, Alphonse. You forget how to treat a lady or something?”

You send him a silent thanks with your eyes as he sighs.

“Nasty business, it is. I’ll spare you the details — grizzly stuff, mind you — but he was captured following the fall of Wall Maria. Something not quite right about him, so I’ve been told. Never heard from again.”

You bite your lip to keep it from trembling.

“It recently came up that he had a kid sister. Whatever was going on with him, they didn’t want some girl loose in the Underground if she was the same way. Seems like she’s met the same fate. The real kicker, though—” you can tell he’s enjoying his story, thinking he’s engaged you with nothing more than a horrific tale about a stranger, “—no one knows for sure if they got the right girl. People down there, well, they don’t live like we do. We nice folks know how to keep our affairs orderly. The types that live down there have no decent documentation of who’s who.”

You don’t even notice your mouth has fallen open. You’re staring without seeing.

“So, what’s your name?” Alphonse is saying.

You don’t even hear him as your legs begin carrying you back home.

As you walk, your shock slowly settles into coherent understanding, then anger. Hot, furious tears prick the backs of your eyes and you blink them away. Just as you near the house, fat drops of rain begin to fall from dense black clouds. You slam the door shut behind you as a proper downpour picks up outside.

You dump your basket of produce on the floor without ceremony and barge into the bedroom. You’re acting without thinking as you throw open Levi’s chest. You’ve never once opened it, not even to store his messages. It never before occured to you to betray his trust and look through his reports.

You grab a fistful from the top of the pile, knowing they arrived in recent weeks, and hurry with them back into the kitchen. You spread them out before you on the table, frantically looking for the letters that make up a name you know, a name you’ve held dear to your heart your entire life.

There it is.  _ K-R-I-S-T-O-F-F. _

With a rustle you snatch the bundle of pages up and sit down with them heavily. Slowly, painstakingly, your lips form around words and syllables you never thought you would see.

_ Sized?  _ No _ , seized. _

_ Military C-U-S-T-O-D-Y. _

_ Fy, fee, physical E-X-P-E-R-I-M-E-N-T-A-T-I-O-N. _

You read further, tears blurring your vision and staining the pages.

_ Pronounced dead, year 845, in military custody. _

Angry, hurt, betrayed. You don’t even know what you’re feeling. You toss this report aside and begin shuffling through the others. With great effort, you find another and painstakingly decipher a relevant passage.

_ It has recently been confirmed that Kristoff (L/N), confirmed to be an enemy of humanity, has one remaining blood relative. As of summer 847, a likely suspect has been seized and taken into Military Police custody for interrogation and experimentation. _

The rain dances across the roof in a steady rhythm as the first sob breaks free from your throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that thicc plot I mentioned earlier? Well, friends, we've only scratched the surface.  
> I had such a blast writing this chapter. While I intend to keep romance at the forefront, this angst that you all seem to love as much as I do is only just getting kicked into gear. And I am of the opinion that it needs a driving plot point to keep it going full steam ahead.  
> So here we go! The stage has been set. What will you do next? How will Levi react if he finds out what you've learned about your brother?  
> Let me know in the comments what you think of this development <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com)

Darkness has fallen in a heavy shroud and the thick downpour continues. Levi opens the front door and steps inside, his forest green cloak soaked completely through. As he shuts the door behind him he kicks an onion that fell from your basket, still on the floor where you dropped it that afternoon.

“What the hell?” he asks under his breath. His expression changes when he sees you.

You’re sitting at the table, exactly where you’ve been since you got home from the market. At one point you managed to light the oil lamp. A while later you got up for some water, the cup now clutched in a crushing grip, poised for a drink inches from your lips.

Levi tugs off one wet boot, then the other, lining them up by the door. He shrugs off his cloak, then his jacket, and hangs them from hooks on the wall. He doesn’t once look away from your face save for the glance at his military reports scattered across the table.

“(Y/N).”

You slam your cup down onto the table, ignoring the way the water sloshes over the rim onto your hand and wrist. Whatever Levi was going to say dies in his throat.

“Don’t speak,” you say in a dangerous tone scarcely above a whisper.

You take a deep breath and pause. Then, your words spill out like a soliloquy.

“Back then, when you offered to pay me for the night, every single one of my instincts told me not to do it. What sort of self-respecting girl would do such a thing? Was I really going to live up to what everyone already assumed of me?” You lift your hand and shake off some of the water. Levi remains standing, seemingly rooted to the spot. “But how could I refuse? I had never seen so much money in my life. Well, save for the money my family fought to get you for Kristoff’s papers.”

Levi has the decency to look somewhat ashamed. Then, to his surprise, you laugh.

“How wrong I was about you!” You stand and gesture around you at the quaint kitchen dramatically. “Look at all this! It’s like a palace compared to the tavern. Compared to my childhood home. How lucky am I? I never could have even pictured a life like this, not in my wildest dreams.”

The false humour falls from your face.

“Did it occur to me that your neighbors would talk? Of course it did. So when you told me I was all but a prisoner here, I didn’t fight it.” Your eyes narrow to slits. “You were just protecting me.”

You take a step closer.

“When you told me you knew my brother I swear I would have kissed your feet if you’d asked it of me. Every day I cleaned your house.” Your voice rises slightly. “I cooked for you. I sat with you at that table and I brewed you tea. For fuck’s sake, I worried over the way I dressed for you, Levi.”

You can’t read his face. He’s adopted an expression you’ve never seen before. It’s something like sympathy or concern, while something else, something pitiful, is set in his heavy eyes. Overhead, the rain seems to let up its pounding against the roof.

“Did I ever wonder what opportunity a private in the Garrison would have to establish a relationship with an esteemed officer of the Survey Corps? Yes, I did. I’m not as stupid as you wanted me to be. But I pretended I was because I wanted so desperately to believe you.”

Without realizing it, you’ve gotten nearly nose to nose with Levi. The smell of rainwater hangs about him. You’re inches away from shouting before your voice drops frighteningly low again.

“You dared to tell me that this life was what Kristoff would have wanted for me. Kris, who raised me to think for myself, to take care of our mom, and to believe I was too smart for a life in the Underground.”

Nothing in Levi’s face betrays what he’s thinking. Not even now. Or perhaps,  _ especially _ not now.

“You sat me down at that table and you fed me lies about how a life caged up in here,  _ so  _ unlike a life caged in the Underground,” - you can’t keep the sarcasm out of your tone - “is what Kristoff would have wanted for me.”

“(Y/N)—”

The  _ crack _ of flesh on flesh reverberates around the room. You look at your raised hand, still damp from your spilled water. Levi touches the place on his right cheek where you slapped him, eyes wide. A deep sob wracks your entire frame.

“All you did,” you gasp through fresh tears, “is lie to me. You lied to me about my brother every single day. You kept me here—” you choke out another sob, “—you kept me here for  _ months _ and never once had the decency to tell me what happened to him.”

You feel the strength leave your legs and you give in to your despair, sinking down to the floor. With your face buried in your hands you cry.

For several moments Levi continues to stand, looking down on you as you cry over Kristoff, over the way you were deceived, over this feeling of betrayal, and over your whole sorry life. As your sobs begin to quiet, he gets down on one knee in front of you and pulls your hands away from your face. You try to wrench away from him but he takes your head between his hands, his fingers tangled in your loose hair, and forces you to look at him through your tears.

“Everything I did for you, every lie I told, I did to protect you.”

“Enough,” you whisper hoarsely. “I can’t bear any more.”

Levi shakes you gently.

“You can. You have to.”

You lift your arms around his and roughly wipe away your tears.

“I can’t and I won’t. Your tricks sent some innocent girl to her death.” The tears stop coming. “I’m leaving here, Levi. I’ve had enough of this.”

Levi’s blank expression turns stormy and his hold on your hair tightens, enough to tug at your scalp. “You will not,” he says with authority. “Wherever you go, I’ll find you. I’m not giving you over to them.”

“You won’t,” you reply with venom. “Because I’ll turn myself in before I come back here.”  
Levi’s face changes so you can see the shock.

“I swear to the walls I’ll do it, Levi. Your shitty little spell is broken. I know too much to just sit here and bake bread. You hear me?”

His face morphs again and he drops his left hand to drag you up by the collar of your dress. The force lifts you until you’re both standing. You yelp when he all but tosses you back into your chair. With one motion, he picks his chair up and slams it down to face you, then sits down hard, his knees touching yours.

“You tell me you’re so smart, but you haven’t thought to ask me why your brother was captured in the first place.”

You blink.

“What good would it do to ask you anything?” you demand, recovering quickly. “I should give you the chance to lie to me some more?”

Levi leans forward and stares straight at you with his piercing gray eyes.

“Your brother was captured because he was immune to Titans.”

You stare back, your mind working fiercely to comprehend what Levi said.

“Titans aren’t a disease,” you finally breathe.

Levi leans back and crosses his arms.

“No,” he agrees. “I suppose it makes more sense to say he was immune to detection by Titans.” He pauses. “The same way a horse or a deer would be. They had no interest in eating him.”

You let that sink in. “So that’s why they got him once Wall Maria fell. It was his first contact with Titans.” Levi nods once. “And that’s why they want me. They think I’m the same.”

Levi nods again.

Something clicks and your hurt burrows even deeper in your chest. “That means…keeping me here…I’m just a prisoner of the Survey Corps instead of the Military Police?”

_ So I was just a pawn,  _ you think to yourself sadly, suddenly embarrassed by whatever you might have fabricated between yourself and Levi.  _ A chess piece to be fought over by the MPs and the Scouts. _

“No,” says Levi.

“What?” you demand, meeting his gaze. 

“No one knows you’re here. Not the MPs. Not the Scouts. Just you and me.”

“Explain.”

Levi raises an eyebrow. Your change in attitude towards him has been abrupt.

“This is the first time I’ve acted independently of my superior in a long time,” he begins quietly. “If I had sought approval to take your case it would have meant dragging Commander Erwin into it. He would have enlisted a squad to assist me, drawing resources away from the true mission of the Survey Corps.”

You look at Levi blankly.

“Expeditions beyond the walls.”

Your lips part in a silent  _ ah. _

“Not to mention the inevitable military tribunal,” Levi goes on. “It would have been like a custody battle over a child. Military Police or Survey Corps? Who has the right to track her down and bring her in?”

You cross your arms, unintentionally mimicking Levi.

“I already knew where you were,” he continues. “It was a matter of days before I had enough info to nail down which tavern.” He pauses and sighs as if he’s thinking. “It’s too late for regrets,” he mutters. “I was originally going to bring you here and then turn you over to Commander Erwin. But the Interior MPs were cracking down. It was all but guaranteed you’d fall into their custody if your capture became legitimized.”

The amount of information is overwhelming. Levi is studying your face. 

Eventually, you ask, “Levi, why did you keep me here?”

“Tsk.” Under normal circumstances you would roll your eyes at his impatience. “Don’t you listen? You would have been killed.”

You cover your mouth with your hand. There’s so much to process. Your heart is racing.

“If you had turned me in, even to the Survey Corps, I still would have ended up in Military Police custody?”

“Most likely.”

“So you kept me here to keep me safe?”

“ _ Yes _ , please keep up—”

You stand, your chair screeching along the wood floorboards.

“So what do I do?”

“What?” asks Levi, his face upturned to see yours. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you listen?” you mock. “I can’t stay here. I’ll lose my mind now that I know what I know. And,” realization dawns on you. Suddenly, months worth of frustrations come spilling out. “And I hate it here.” Levi’s eyebrows bunch in a subtle way that suggest he’s wounded. “I hate sitting here, day in and day out, with nothing to drive me except your next visit.” His face shifts again, ever so slightly. You ignore it. “In some twisted way I had more freedom as an impoverished barmaid in the Underground. How can I know all this and sit here twiddling my thumbs? For how long can this go on? Will I die in this house?” You swallow and take a steadying breath. “I have to get out of here. I have to fight. Somehow.”

“So now you’re suicidal?” asks Levi.

“I don’t know!”

You turn away and hug your arms to yourself. Your teeth worry at your lip.

Behind you, Levi quietly stands and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Stay put for a while longer.” He gently turns you so you’re facing each other. “I think I have a solution. You need to continue to lay low until I can iron out the details.”

“I mean it, I’m not staying here—”

“I know. You’re right, the time for secrets has passed. I’m opening your case with Erwin.”

You’re not sure why but tears are pricking your eyes again. You’re exhausted, physically and emotionally.

Levi lifts his hand to the back of your hair and pulls you in close, sighing. You clutch at the collar of his shirt as you cry.

“You’re right,” he says again. “Enough.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I'm so happy with the direction this fic is heading and your kind comments are so, so encouraging! It's incredibly gratifying to write a chapter like this and not only feel proud of myself, but also know I have readers who are enjoying what I'm putting out. Thank you, thank you, thank you.  
> All that being said...um, cliffhanger much? Sorry to do ya dirty like that, but I think it's safe to assume things will really be picking up speed now that Erwin is joining the fray (let the record show Hunky Eyebrows holds a very special place in my heart, so I think it's safe to say he will be somewhat of a permanent fixture in the fic moving forward. Hehe...)  
> Thanks again, everyone. Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments ^.^


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com)

Three days pass.

You stop fretting over your clothes and hair. You stop with the obsessive compulsive cleaning. You altogether stop with anything that might brand you as Levi’s housekeeper. You’ve made up your mind that that’s not what you are meant to be.

Levi rode back out that very night to HQ. Regardless of the lengths he went to keep you in the dark, you find you harbor an undying trust in the Captain. As you sit around the house, taking care of only the bare minimum, you contemplate where this life will take you next. You try not to dwell on how much of it depends on Levi and your faith in him.

On the third night you wait up, just as Levi instructed you to do. You restlessly brew a pot of tea, enough for three, and leave it on low heat to keep it warm while you sip yours and wait. The hands of the clock seem to tick sluggishly. Shutting your eyes, you inhale the herbal scent of the tea as you drink. Levi’s face comes to mind, the way it looked in the low light of the bedroom the night he slept with you.

In the very early hours of the morning, during the strange limbo between day and night, you hear the sounds of approaching horses. Two horses, exactly as Levi told you you would. Moments later he opens the door and lets Commander Erwin in after him.

Erwin looks at you as the door creaks shut. You look back. He’s incredibly tall and dashingly handsome. His face is serious, but not bored or expressionless in the way you’ve become accustomed to with Levi. Both men are in civilian clothes, likely to avoid rousing suspicion in anyone they may have passed on the road.

“(Y/N),” Erwin says. You stand and shake his outstretched hand.

“Commander,” you greet, searching his blue eyes for any sign of what’s to come. You find comfort in his gaze. There’s a charm to his deep voice.

You and Erwin sit as Levi fetches two more tea cups from the cupboard. He pours some tea for himself and some for Erwin before leaning against the counter, his own cup in that strange grip you hardly notice anymore.

The tension in the room is thick. You find yourself, for some reason, counting on Erwin to relieve it. He sighs.

“Levi has put you and I both in a serious predicament.”

Your eyebrows shoot up — you’re surprised by his candor. You don’t dare even sneak a glance at Levi.

“We discussed at length what we should do here,” Erwin continues. “There is only one solution that protects not only you but Levi as well. And by extension the Survey Corps.”

Now you do look at Levi. He seems to be finding something in his cup very fascinating.

“The Cadet Corps are recruiting for the 104th until the end of the week. You’ll enlist and join the Survey Corps at the completion of your three year training.”

You grit your teeth, trepidation and a fierce determination mingling together to start a fire in your belly. Erwin and Levi are both looking at you, awaiting your response.

“All right,” you say, meeting Erwin’s gaze. “If that’s the solution then I’ll do it.”

“You don’t have to,” says Levi almost menacingly. His eyes look tired, the shadows underneath more pronounced than you’re used to.

“If she won’t stay here then yes, she does have to,” Erwin responds for you. “This is bigger than a wanted girl from the Underground now. This affects all of us.”

“Aren’t I old to be a trainee?” you ask, filing away Levi’s comment to mull over later.

“Yes,” Erwin agrees. “However just because it’s most common to enlist recruits at the minimum age requirement of twelve does not mean there’s any rule against older recruits.” He pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to you across the table.

You gasp. They’re citizenship papers. Kris, immortalized in your memory as a twelve-year-old recruit, appears in your mind’s eye.

“Are these…?” you breathe.

“Real? Yes,” Erwin finishes for you. “We’ve decided the best course of action is not for you to enlist under an alias or assume a younger age. This will be most convincing if you tell the truth about as much as possible. So,” he shifts back in Levi’s chair, maintaining his impeccable posture. “You’re a girl from the Underground, seventeen years old who only just acquired her citizenship.”

You’re still studying the page in your hand, the printed ink that spells out your own name.

_Kris, look how far I’ve come._

“Of course,” Erwin is proceeding, “you will never mention your connection to me or Levi, especially not that you ever spent time here in his care. If all goes well none of this will come out at least until you’re officially a Scout.”

Levi sets his cup down with more force than is necessary. 

“I would never,” you say, finally lifting your eyes from the paper in your hands.

“Remember,” snarls Levi. “You need to enlist in the Survey Corps at the end of your training, not the Garrison and definitely not the Military Police. That’s the only term.”

You turn your head to face him. A storm cloud might as well hang over his head. There’s something dark in his features, something like frustration and… grief.

“Thank you, Levi. He’s right. This will serve two purposes.” Erwin ticks them off on two fingers. “Your protection from the Interior Military Police will be guaranteed under the supervision of my trusted officers.” Tick. “And your potential...gift—” you snort at the word. Erwin raises his eyebrows, making you blush lightly in embarrassment. “—your potential gift will be put to its best use on expeditions beyond the walls.” Tick.

Levi tensely crosses his arms.

“All right. That’s what I’ll do,” you say, noticing Levi’s irritation but choosing to ignore it.

Erwin grants you a small smile. “I’m glad to have your cooperation. The life of a soldier is hard, bear that in mind.”

You nod and smile back sadly. “I know.”

“We need you to seriously commit to your training. The Survey Corps is no joke; it requires a tremendous amount of skill even to survive. It would be ideal if you could place in the top ten of your class.”

Levi is glaring daggers. You nod again, your determination flaring up further.

“There’s one final thing to address,” says Erwin. “I did some digging of my own, independent of the Interior Police.” He takes a sip of tea. “Did your mother ever tell you why you and your brother took her last name and not your father’s?”

You shake your head and sigh.

“Never,” you say. “I never asked. I always assumed it had to do with my father’s sudden passing.”

“Well,” Erwin begins. “Your father’s surname, Alastair, is connected to a number of minor conflicts with the crown spanning the last several decades.”

“The same Alastairs as my father?” you ask, disbelieving.

“It would appear so. It was only in the past 25 years that the name appears in any records associated with the Underground.” Erwin pauses pointedly, making you uneasy. “Were you aware your father was not originally living in such poverty?”

“I had no idea,” you admit, wondering what else about your family is a mystery to you.

“I see,” says Erwin. “None of my findings were conclusive. But it’s certainly best you keep your mother’s name.”

You nod, deep in thought.

“Is that everything?” asks Levi. You had nearly forgotten he was there, stewing by the sink.

“Yes,” answers Erwin. “And it’s time to head out if we want to make it back to HQ before anyone misses us. Levi, I’ll get (Y/N) to the training grounds and see you back there. (Y/N), if you could pack quickly it would help.”

“I’m leaving right now?” you ask, looking from Erwin to Levi and back.

Levi turns his head, avoiding your questioning gaze.

“Yes. There’s no reason to wait. This is all riding on you enlisting in the 104th Cadet Corps and the deadline is fast approaching,” says Erwin in an authoritative tone.

You stand, suddenly aware of how delicate the situation is. Without another word, you vanish into the bedroom to get your things.

Levi and Erwin are silent for a moment before Levi claims the seat you just vacated. Another beat of quiet passes before Erwin speaks.

“You’ve grown attached to her.”

Levi’s only response is to glare at the tabletop. Erwin tiredly rubs a hand along his face, briefly breaking his collected composure.

“I’ll wait outside while she gets her things,” he offers knowingly.

Upon his exit Levi waits hardly a moment before following you into the bedroom.

He finds you standing at the side of the bed, quickly but deliberately folding clothes and gathering things into your bag.

“(Y/N),” he says in a low voice.

You sigh and don’t look up from your things.

“Levi, please don’t turn Freya away.”

“Freya?” he asks, walking up to the bed to see your face. This time, it’s he who can’t read you.

You nod, still not facing him. “The cat. Please, I hate thinking she’ll feel abandoned. If you could just give her a treat when you see her? Instead of shooing her away?”

Levi continues only to look at you.

“And the garden...I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to harvest any of the autumn vegetables. And I never baked those pastries I planned to...”

You look up and blink tears away. Levi takes your hands in his and gently pulls you to face him. You finally look at him with watery eyes.

“This is what you wanted,” he whispers. “Tsk. What are you crying for?”

You inhale and shake your head. “I’m not crying.” You raise your chin defiantly. “This is what I want.” Your hands tighten around Levi’s.

“I should be happy to be rid of you,” he says, dropping your hands and putting his on either side of your face.

The kiss is fleeting. Levi’s lips are smooth but his kiss is firm, as if he’s trying to say something he can’t put into words. You’re shocked but you don’t pull away, quite enjoying the feel of it — the kiss itself and, finally, a closeness to Levi you have been craving.

Shutting your eyes, you lean into him and he responds with a touch of urgency. An emotion you’ve never experienced before wells up in your chest and manifests in more unshed tears at the backs of your eyes. You wrap your arms around his neck and silently beg him not to stop, not to ever stop. As if he hears your plea, he clutches you even closer, his mouth parting and moving against yours in a warm, sensual way as if to convey his need is as great as yours. 

All too soon it ends. Levi breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on yours, his hands dropping to the small of your back. Your breaths mingle before you bury your face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. Your heart flutters and your breathing quiets as you cherish the feel of his body close to yours, the masculine scent you’ve come to associate with him, and the sense of safety you experience when he’s near.

“Three years is a long time,” you murmur against his neck.

“Stay here.”

_Yes!_ your heart screams. You swallow down a lump in your throat.

“I can’t.”

Levi exhales into your hair. “Then don’t get killed in that time.”

You hug him just a bit tighter. “Same to you.”

You stand this way as long as you both dare and, for the first time, you realize it’s Levi who ever made this place feel like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, Part One has concluded.
> 
> I can't thank you all enough for the kudos and encouraging feedback I've received thus far. I harbored some natural insecurities about posting here, as I'm sure anyone would, and so earning your readership has been both validating and rewarding. That being said, if anyone has thoughts, predictions, constructive feedback, or even ideas on the direction they hope things take moving forward, please let me know in the comments! I want you all to enjoy reading _ACBS _as much as I enjoy writing it.__
> 
> __Finally, how do we feel about where we're at currently? I promise we've only scratched the surface of yours and Levi's relationship (and, to all my fellow angst lovers, something tells me it still won't be all rainbows and butterflies from here on out...). I have so much more planned for this story, so stick around to find out how it goes!!!_ _
> 
> __Thanks again for everything xoxo_ _


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You had not done wrong enough to her and hers, you must begin to train her, must you? Begin to break her, like a poor caged bird, and wear her deluded life away, in teaching her to sing YOUR notes?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com)  
> Welcome to Part Two! I'm back after a bit of a hiatus (things really picked up at work) with a new chapter and a little context for you - as I mentioned at the start of Part One, this is a three part story. To clarify the timeline of this fic, Part One took place between the fall of Wall Maria and Eren, Armin, and Mikasa’s enlistment in the Cadet Corps in the year 847. This means you, reader, are enlisting with the main characters. In the beginning, during the prologue, you were nine years old. Throughout the duration of Part One, you were seventeen. Now, we’ve had a brief time skip. We’re in the same year Part One ended in but we are officially following the course of the anime from here on out.
> 
> In case anyone was worried, your relationship with Levi will always be the main focus of this fic. I love him too dearly to have it any other way <3

|| Part Two ||

For early autumn, the sun is hot and unforgiving. Your uniform seems to cling to you in all the worst places, especially at your biceps, where the cropped leather jacket bunches up when you raise your fists.

“Come on, Eren. You really going to let another girl knock you on your ass?” you shout, instigating.

Eren narrows his sharp green eyes at you in agitation, raising his own fists in a defensive position. “Annie manages to beat me _once_ in hand-to-hand and you have to keep bringing it up?” He charges you.

You dodge smoothly and swing your left fist at his ribs. He side steps but you anticipate it and stick your leg out to trip him up. He stumbles, dropping his defensive posture. You seize the opportunity to grab him by the shoulder and knock him fully off his feet. A grunt rushes from his lungs when he hits the ground and you stand over him triumphantly. Mikasa, Eren’s protective childhood friend, eyes you from across the training yard with distaste.

It’s been mere weeks since you enlisted in the 104th Cadet Corps, but your bond with the other cadets is already strong. Something about the tough drills, training under the hard-headed Commandant Shadis, and the subpar mess hall food created a connection between you all unlike you’ve had with anyone before.

You were concerned on day one, standing among countless pre-teens, that you would struggle to fit into the group dynamic. It doesn’t escape you that getting along with your comrades is imperative to a strong team and thus a stronger individual.

Not a day goes by that you don’t think back to the night in Levi’s kitchen with Commander Erwin and that burning determination rises up in you. A spot in the top ten has to be yours.

The hard training made you wary at first; you’ve never pushed your body to its limit quite like this before. But it’s proven to be almost therapeutic; you have an awareness of your body you never imagined, not to mention each ache in your muscles, each callus on your hands, is a reminder of how much closer you are to breaking free of the life you’ve lived so far. Closer to achieving everything Kris had taken from him when he was murdered.

“I’ll keep bringing it up until you learn how to win,” you joke, realizing Eren is still on the ground and looking up at you with agitation.

Not everything about your fellow cadets is comradery and banter. There’s Jean, who’s sarcastic and entitled. Connie is loud and kind of an idiot. Sasha, his right hand man, is also a bit slow on the uptake and a little too concerned about getting more food on her plate than the rest of you. That being said, these traits are endearing as much as anything else, especially in kids of their age. They hardly overshadow their competence in the training yard and other redeemable qualities.

Some of the others… don’t sit right with you. Eren, you hate to admit, is one of them. It’s almost as if you can sense him and the others even without looking at them. Your eyes are locked on Eren in front of you now and yet, if you shut your eyes, you would know exactly where he may get up and walk off to. You can tell that Ymir is about six meters behind you chatting with Christa. Bertolt and Reiner are half-heartedly sparring just out of sight on your left. Annie is ditching hand-to-hand combat entirely out of view, just off the yard and behind the mess hall.

You shake it off. What else can you do? You’ve been mulling it over for weeks. There’s simply no explaining it.

You offer your hand to Eren to help him up. He rolls his eyes and accepts it.

Your vision goes black.

Well, not quite. The training yard vanishes, yes, but you see instead a massive figure, towering at least 15 meters tall, baring menacing teeth set in a mouth with no lips. It looks back at you with intelligent green eyes.

You gasp and stumble back, Eren’s hand slipping from yours. And then you’re back in the training yard.

“(Y/N)?” he asks, standing up on his own. “What is it?”

Your hands are shaking. You stare at them as if an explanation will be written on your palms. _What the hell was that? Surely not a Titan?_ You’ve never seen one before and yet… what else could it have been?

“(Y/N)?” asks Eren again, his voice laced with a trace of concern.

You meet his eyes and in your fragile state think for a split second that you’re looking at the Titan again. It had the same green eyes.

With much effort you drop your hands and take a steadying breath.

“I’m… I’m fine. Just felt light-headed all of a sudden,” you manage to say.

“Maybe get that checked out,” replies Eren, his concern replaced with something almost reprimanding. “You won’t be of any use against Titans if you’re prone to fainting spells.”

You grunt in acknowledgement as the instructor blows a whistle to indicate the end of the exercise. You, Eren and the other trainees begin trickling off to collect your vertical maneuvering gear for the next set of drills.

Still thoroughly shaken, you study the dirt beneath your boots and try to make sense of what just happened. Almost nothing comes to you except… was that the first time you’ve really touched Eren? Skin to skin? Would the same thing happen with the others? 

You grit your teeth. Maybe you’re just dehydrated.

_Pull yourself together, (Y/N)._

Armin trots up beside you, his blond hair rustled by the breeze, and effectively brings your attention back out of your own head.

“(Y/N), how do you always seem to hold your own in these exercises? You have combat experience already?” he inquires, falling into step with you and Eren.

You shake your head and think for a moment, grateful for the distraction. “I just know how to pay attention,” you decide, reflecting on the way you’d watched Annie and Mikasa in last week’s exercises. Those two have proven early on that they’re fated for the top ten. You humbly acknowledge to yourself that there’s as much to learn from your peers, however young they may be, as there is from the instructors.

Armin nods pensively. Speaking of which, you predict Armin is a force to be reckoned with as well. He has a sneaky way of pulling things off with brains rather than braun despite the awkward, blushing manner he stumbles through training.

“I’m just relieved to finally feel comfortable in the ODM gear,” Eren admits a bit sheepishly. You recall his early struggles with faulty gear and smile sympathetically. “But now I think I’m off to a good start.” He clenches his fist. “And before you know it we’ll be ready to take down the Titans.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “You’ll strike fear in every Titans’ heart, Eren.”

“You know, (Y/N), no one knows if Titans have hearts,” says Armin.

At that you allow yourself to laugh as you and the kids arrive at the 3DM drills.

The drills offer an excellent reprieve from your unease over what happened with Eren. You welcome the strain on your body as it adjusts to the physical demands of operating the 3DM gear. As you settle into a rhythm, pushed on by your instructor’s commands, your thoughts wander to Levi.

It took awhile for it to sink in that three years is, in fact, a long time to be apart from someone. Especially someone so special to you. But sink in it did, and you find yourself thinking of him often, a dull yearning in your chest flaring up each time. What is he doing? Is he safe? Does he check on the house? Dare you hope that he misses you? 

You wonder if you ever even cross his mind.

Distracted by your thoughts, your anchor nearly misses its target and you stumble clumsily.

“(L/N)! Where’s your head at? Focus!”

You heed the instructor’s words and concentrate on the task at hand.

* * *

The rest of the day goes by uneventfully and, once the sun has set, you find yourself in the mess hall with the rest of the cadets. The sound of clattering dishes mingles with chatter and laughter. You settle at a vacant bench with your plain but filling meal and sigh.

_Three years_. It’s almost haunting. The number comes to your mind often and unbidden. It tails you like your shadow.

You eat quickly and, even as other cadets fill the seats around you, you mainly keep to yourself tonight. You’re tired and hoping to turn in early for once. Not to mention you’re still a bit rattled by the incident on the training yard. Fortunately, Sasha and Connie, the only two who wind up joining you at your table, do a good enough job keeping themselves entertained that your sullenness goes largely unnoticed. Meanwhile, you do your best to ignore the acute hums of energy coming from four bodies in particular seated around the room.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Sasha says at one point. Your roll is in your hand and you lift it to your mouth as you look at her. “Could I… could I get half of that?” she asks, pointing at the bread.

You pause with it poised in front of your mouth and cock an eyebrow. Instead of answering you force the whole thing in your mouth in one large, incredibly unladylike bite.

Her crestfallen face makes you chuckle around the food. Your mind drifts again to Levi as you picture his disapproval at your little joke. A wave of melancholy washes over you and you return to your watery stew.

Just as you start to believe you’ve made it through the meal otherwise unnoticed, Jean saunters by on his way to return his tray, Marco not far behind.

“Oi, Granny, looking a bit frail today. Did you miss your afternoon nap?”

You smirk at the ongoing joke. As soon as it came out that you’re the oldest in the 104th Jean began mercilessly bringing it up every chance he gets. Sometimes you enjoy the harmless teasing and the banter that ensues. Tonight, however, you’re not exactly in the mood.

Mikasa is approaching with her own empty tray, Eren and Armin just behind. As the pretty dark-haired girl brushes by Jean’s cheeks take on a tinge of red.

“Very funny, Jean, but girls don’t usually go for bullies. I doubt you’ll impress your girlfriend that way.”

He flushes completely and begins to stutter something about how he certainly _does not_ have a girlfriend. Eren snickers, Marco chuckles good-naturedly and Mikasa pays him no mind at all. You smirk again and stand with your own tray. That’s enough for tonight.

“Night, guys,” you say, making your way towards the exit.

“Night, (Y/N)!” says Sasha cheerfully around a mouthful of bread. Connie is too busy berating her for nabbing it from his tray to chime in.

You deposit your tray with the other dirty ones and exit the mess hall, mercifully leaving those four inexplicable buzzings of energy behind you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to read your thoughts on the start of Part Two as I get back into the swing of things ~ xx


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, I'm back! Hoping to get back into regular updates after that break between parts one and two...  
> Also, I know I'm plugging my [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com) at the front of every chapter. I do it mainly because there's no PM feature on AO3! I can live with or without your follows, but if you would ever like to connect outside the comment section on this fic then send me a message! Or drop me an ask! I'm open to SNK prompts as well, if anyone enjoys my writing enough that they'd like to read something else by me, hehe.  
> Okay, enough of that. Enjoy the chapter xx

_(F/I) and (L/I) stand for “first initial” and “last initial,” respectively._

The nights are brisk even if the days can still be hot. You hug yourself against the chill; your casual outfit isn’t particularly warm. Sometimes you think back to the pretty dresses and handmade clothes you were wearing at Levi’s, now stowed under your bunk to be replaced by simpler but more practical shirts, skirts and boots.

You’re not so engrossed in your own thoughts that you don’t notice a small congregation of four officers near Commandant Shadis’ quarters. You recognize the commandant, one of the female instructors, a soldier you don’t know and — you can hardly believe it — Commander Erwin.

Erwin and the other soldier are holding the reigns of their horses; they appear to have just arrived. You stop dead in your tracks, still not convinced it’s him. But it is, his unmistakable blue eyes serving as your proof when he raises them to meet yours.

You’re well aware that you’re not supposed to know him, but as the other officers talk Erwin maintains eye contact with you. He inconspicuously raises his pointer finger so you can see it. _Wait,_ he seems to be telling you. Then, a subtle tilt of his head towards the commandant’s quarters.

_Second door_ , he mouths.

Once you’ve overcome your shock you manage a discreet nod and hurry off to the girls’ barracks.

Much to your relief you’re the first one back from the mess hall.

_What is Erwin doing here? Perhaps I’ve been discovered. No, he wouldn’t be secretive about seeing me if that were the case. Did something happen to Levi?_

Your heart sinks. No, impossible. Levi is a notorious Scout. Word would have spread like wildfire, even amongst the cadets. You nervously pick at your lip with your teeth, a habit even hard training and discipline won’t help you shake, and wrestle your hair loose of its braid. You exhale slowly and pull your hairbrush from among your few belongings. With long, deliberate strokes, you detangle the day’s knots and struggle to relax.

The simple act never fails to center you, at least to an extent. If you close your eyes you can almost imagine it’s your mother running the brush through your hair, humming an aimless tune at the end of another hard day. Every night without fail, until that day, your mother sat you down at the table and, standing behind you, ran the brush through your hair and counted each stroke as she went, all the way to one hundred. It’s one of the only generous, maternal things you can recall her doing for you and certainly the only good childhood memory you have that doesn’t involve Kristoff.

Your lips move soundlessly as you count the strokes yourself, just as you have every night for two years — more so in memoriam than out of necessity. When you reach one hundred, you let your eyes flutter open and then move quickly to your bunk before anyone else returns. You dive under the blankets fully clothed and roll over to face the wall.

It feels like an eternity before all the other girls return and settle down for the night. You feign sleep as they come back from the mess hall and slowly, one by one, get into bed. Ymir is one of the first, arriving with Christa, and you grit your teeth against the baffling hum that accompanies her. Annie is last and you almost want to cover your head with your pillow, however you continue to feign sleep; you know from experience that does nothing anyway. At last, someone lowers all the oil lamps and you listen painstakingly for the nighttime hush to fall over the barrack.

Of course, you have no way of knowing if they’re all out cold. However your chances are pretty good — you’re fighting off sleep yourself by the time you decide the coast is clear. The long days of drills and instruction would leave anyone bone tired.

And so you slip out, as quiet as you can manage, to meet with Commander Erwin.

Stealing across the training grounds, you stay close to a wall when you can, chasing the shadows. You see no one but a pair of instructors, most likely heading back to the officers’ barracks on the opposite end of the grounds. You sense from the heaviness of the air and the obstructed moonlight that the sky is thick with clouds tonight.

Finally, you reach the building that houses Shadis’ quarters and, apparently, spare rooms for visiting officers. You trot on light feet to the second door and note that the lantern hanging outside it is out — the only one you’ve passed that you can say that about. You welcome the shroud of darkness this casts over you as you stand on the threshold.

_No details overlooked with Erwin, I guess_.

Hesitantly, you raise a fist and rap twice on the door.

It swings open almost immediately. Erwin is there, dressed in civilian clothes like you. It doesn’t escape you that his slate gray button up complements his coloring very nicely. You feel a warm glow rise to your cheek despite yourself. He steps aside and cocks his head to indicate you should enter.

You step in as cautiously as you had knocked and note the bed, desk and small table the room is equipped with. An oil lamp glows softly on the desk with documents and pens to keep it company. A pot of tea and two cups are out on the table. Cadets rarely sit around to take tea, so the sight reminds you of Levi and the all the time at the market you spent carefully choosing leaves for him.

“(Y/N),” says Erwin softly, shutting the door with a careful _click_ , “I was beginning to wonder if you wouldn’t come.”

You turn to face him, your heart rate somewhat quicker than usual.  
“How could I refuse, Commander?” you say. You’re shocked by the coyness of your own response.

Perhaps you imagine it but the corners of Erwin’s mouth seem to twitch.

“Apologies for the unseemly meeting place. I can assure you I have no indecent intentions, luring you to my bedroom so late at night.”

His eyes dance suddenly and no, you certainly weren’t imagining his subtle grin. _Interesting. Perhaps he’s not as straight-laced as his reputation led me to believe._

You find yourself grinning back. “I would never hold the Commander of the Survey Corps in such low regard.” 

Fara’s face comes to mind. _But maybe lay off the tricks, (Y/N). You’re not here to work for tips._

“Take a seat,” he says, gesturing to the table with that small, playful smile.

You oblige and watch as he pours you a cup of tea before sitting across from you.

“I’m glad to see you,” you say genuinely, any traces of teasing gone.

Erwin regards you with a quiet countenance and brings his cup to his lips. You follow suit and wait for him to reply.

“You must be wondering why I’m here. And, I’m sure, why I asked you to join me.”

You raise an eyebrow in response.

“Recruitment for the Survey Corps needs to begin early on. We hurt for recruits in a way the Military Police or the Garrison never will. We have the highest death rate and the least appealing responsibilities.”

“Is this a typical recruitment strategy, Commander?” you ask with feigned innocence, referring to the late night meeting.

His lips twitch again. “Cadet, I trust that you intend to honor our agreement, in which case you have already been sufficiently recruited. No, that is only my official reason for being here. This meeting was on my personal agenda.”

You’re finding him incredibly hard to read. Surely he’s toying with you?

“I see,” you say quietly, a nervous flutter in your stomach.

Your teacup _clinks_ as you set it in the saucer and Erwin stands to collect something from his desk. When he returns to his seat he sets the envelope in front of you. You recognize the angular handwriting on the front immediately, despite it simply reading _(F/I) (L/I)._

“Captain Levi requested a favor from me. I assured him I’d get that to you and confirm you’re applying yourself to your training. And, I believe he said, ‘that she’s not making a big ass mess of things.’”

Your heart skips a beat as you pick up the envelope, all thoughts of Erwin’s possible teasing banished from your mind.

_So he does think of me_.

“(Y/N), for Levi’s peace of mind as well as mine, I need your report on your time in training thus far.”

You clear your throat and look back up from the envelope. “Of course,” you say. “There’s not much to report, however. As far as I can tell no one suspects anything out of the ordinary. My age comes up often, but that was to be expected. Not in any way that implies a threat.”

“None of the instructors pay particularly close attention to you?”

“No, no more than to any of the other cadets.”

“What do you say when asked why you enlisted?”

You swallow, thinking of Kristoff. “That this was my best shot of making it out of the Underground.”

Erwin nods, seemingly satisfied. “Good. Anything else of note?”

The green-eyed Titan flashes across your mind’s eye.

“Nothing,” you say resolutely.

“Very good,” says Erwin. “Shadis mentioned your name as a promising recruit. The word he used was ‘tenacious.’”

“Is that so?” you respond with a smile, amused at the thought of Shadis having anything even vaguely kind to say about a cadet.

Your eyes fall back to the envelope under your hand. You’re itching to read the letter enclosed.

Erwin misses nothing, it seems, and catches the look. “I’ll be gone by late morning. If you can slip me a response before you’re expected in the training yard I’ll be sure to deliver it.”

You look up at him through your lashes. “Is it in good taste to use such a high-ranking officer as my messenger?” Your upturned lips betray you.

His eyes dance in that same way as earlier. “Not at all, (Y/N). However I’m willing to make an exception under such unique circumstances.”

“Then I’d best be going to ensure I can take care of this before I’m missed.” You stand and smile warmly at Erwin. “Thank you, Commander. I’m in your debt.”

He shakes his head, the humor dying from his eyes. “Repay me by committing to your training. The Survey Corps is depending on it.”

Levi’s letter clutched in your left hand, you lift your right fist to your heart and conceal the other behind your back in a salute. “Sir.”

Erwin’s lip twitches again as you slither quietly back onto the grounds. Instead of turning right and heading back to the barracks, however, you turn left towards the building that holds the classrooms used for lectures on things such as strategy and Titan science.

If you’re going to have a response ready by morning you need an inconspicuous place to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I'm gonna say is if Levi is daddy then Erwin is _papa_ *drools* Mama loves her a piece of Eyebrows. Hope you do too, muahaha.  
> If I've said it once I've said it a thousand times - I love reading your comments. It's so inspiring and encouraging to hear your thoughts! Please, don't be shy <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, wonderful readers, this is a momentous occasion because _A Caged Bird Sings_ has reached 100 kudos ^.^ I know for some authors 100 isn't very many, but for me, man, I'm happy. This feels like a big landmark in my fic writing as this is my first work on AO3. Thank you times a MILLION for your continued support. Knowing 100 of you enjoyed this fic enough to click that lil kudos button is so incredibly rewarding for me.
> 
> NOW on with chapter <3
> 
> [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com)

_You know the drill - (F/I) and (L/I) stand for “first initial” and “last initial,” respectively._

_(F/I),_

_I should be overjoyed that you’re not my problem anymore. Instead, I’m up at night wondering if you’re going to sell us out and turn the whole plan to shit. Are you taking your training seriously or are you being a dumbass and slacking off? I worry that you didn’t know what you were signing up for. Remember, one slip of the tongue and you, Erwin, and I are all in deep shit. Don’t give anything away._

_Burn this once you’ve read it._

_-L.A._

_L,_

_I am tuched by your kind words. It is a comfort to me to know that you are no less bossy then when I was in your service. I have been thinking of you, to._

_I don’t know what your going on about, asking me if I’m slacking off. In six months did you ever find a spek of dust in the house? A single dirty dish in the sink? “Slacking off” is not in my charecter. You seem to forget I supported myself with hard work before you chose to play night in shining armor._

_Commandant Shadis used the word “tenashous” to describe me, according to Erwin. Will that put your mind at ease?_

_Be well. Please._

_-(F/I)(L/I)_

_(F/I),_

_Your spelling and grammar are the most abhorrent things I have ever had the displeasure of reading._

_Words you misspelled, because no matter how “tenacious” you are, you are still a dumbass:_

_Touched_

_Speck_

_Character_

_Tenacious_

_Knight (“night,” as you used it, refers to nighttime, when it is dark out. Idiot._

_Basic grammar we reviewed a million times but apparently failed to make stick:_

_“Than” is used for comparison. “Then” indicates time._

_“To” is if you are going straight “to” the gallows for your ignorance of grammatical conventions. “Too” is synonymous with “as well.”_

_“Your” is possessive, as in I was “your” reading instructor and I seem to have failed at the task like I have never failed anything before. “You’re” is a contraction of the words “you are.”_

_Any words I’ve used here that you didn’t know how to spell copy down ten times. Consider it evidence of your tenacity._

_I am as well as I can be. I await your response with Erwin’s return to HQ._

_-L.A._

_L,_

_Abhorrent abhorrent abhorrent abhorrent abhorrent abhorrent abhorrent abhorrent abhorrent abhorrent_

_Misspelled misspelled misspelled misspelled misspelled misspelled misspelled misspelled misspelled misspelled_

_Apparently apparently apparently apparently apparently apparently apparently apparently apparently apparently_

_Indicates indicates indicates indicates indicates indicates indicates indicates indicates indicates_

_Straight straight straight straight straight straight straight straight straight straight_

_Tenacity tenacity tenacity tenacity tenacity tenacity tenacity tenacity tenacity tenacity_

_You will be pleased to know, Instructor, that I am writing this letter in the company of a dictionary. It seems inevitable (had to look that one up) that I will be spending twice as long writing this response THAN if I were to wing it._

_Erwin tells me the Scouts made significant progress on supply lines within Wall Maria on your last expedition. He seemed pleased with the limited number of casualties and attributed much of the success to your Special Operations Squad. I have to admit, I am grateful to finally have some insite into your duties in the Survey Corps. Calling you a closed book doesn’t begin to cover it._

_I’m about to enter my tenth month as a cadet. I can assure you that I am still applying myself to my training to the degree you and Erwin expect from me. It’s too soon to tell if I’ll be in the top ten yet, but I’m aiming for it._

_I wish we had more opportunities to correspond. I look forward to a response from you that might include more than criticisms of my writing. Some prompts you might consider:_

_Have you seen the cat, my sweet girl Freya? Is she well?_

_Has my garden gone to complete ruin? I took so much pride in it._

_Do you ever treat yourself to some decent loose leaf tea? The bags you brewed for me the night we met were ABHORRENT compared to the quality leaves I chose for you._

_Have you been sleeping? I often worried over the long nights you spent awake at the house._

_I suppose this letter should be burned, yes? I’ve said quite a bit._

_Take care._

_-(F/I)(L/I)_

_(F/I),_

_Well done with your spelling and grammar, Cadet. Still, there was one oversight in your last letter. The word is spelled “insight,” not “insite.” I expect zero errors in your next response._

_I should have known you would cozy up to Erwin after I deprived you of information for so long. Fine, now you know. But what did you expect? I’m a Captain, not a private. Does it really come as a surprise that I have a squad under my command? And don’t get too close to Erwin. He’s your superior._

_In regards to the top ten, don’t just aim, idiot. Pull the trigger. Are you proficient with the vertical maneuvering equipment yet? It is paramount that a Scout can navigate it like second nature. I swear if you get eaten by a Titan on the field because your skills with the 3DM gear are shoddy I will beat you to death. This is just my opinion, but when it comes to teaching somebody discipline I believe pain is the most effective way._

_You know I hate prying. However, your prompts are tactically non-invasive. Fine, I’ll humor you._

_I have seen the dumb cat. It rubs its filthy body all over my legs and mewls like a whining child. I give it small pieces of cheese when it shows itself._

_The garden is, in fact, doing quite well. I recruited one of the neighbors to tend to it in exchange for its harvest._

_I must admit, I didn’t know the fine teas you purchased were for my sake. I just assumed you were a frivolous spender and indulged in nice things after being deprived of them in the Underground. To answer your question…yes, on occasion. I enjoy a cup or two when I’m at the house. I never seem to get it exactly right though._

_Your last prompt about my sleeping habits does not fall under the “tactically non-invasive” category. But I will divulge that as a lifelong insomniac there’s little hope for me._

_-L.A._

_L,_

_You’re my superior as well, Captain. I have to say you sound rather hypocritical, reprimanding me for making polite conversation with Erwin about nothing but military affairs._

_I appreciate the sentiment, but if I’ve already been eaten by a Titan you will have a hard time beating me to death. I’ll already be dead. And yes, to answer your question, I am proficient. I’m well into my second year in the Cadet Corps now. You consider me so incapable that I wouldn’t even master the equipment in this much time? I’ve also proven to be top of the class on horseback. This might come as a surprise to you considering the last time we met you had to help me into the saddle. In contrast, Shadis reprimands me for concerning myself too much with the well-being of my comrades in our field training. I’m working on it._

_All that being said, there are some excellent trainees in the 104th. A spot in the top ten is incredibly ambitious, even for someone with my tenacity. Speaking of the other cadets, I train with a girl named Mikasa Ackerman. Any relation of yours, by chance? I have a gut feeling she’ll graduate top of the class._

_Erwin may have discussed this with you already, but he told me he uncovered an interesting record concerning my father’s family, the Alastairs. He seems to believe we faced similar persecution to the Ackermans. Our similar histories fail to escape me. What are your thoughts?_

_And, Levi, thank you sincerely for your last response. I entirely expected my prompts to be disregarded._

_I doubt I need to mention this letter should be destroyed._

_I am impatiently awaiting my formal enlistment in the Survey Corps. I’ll brew you a nice pot of tea to celebrate._

_-(F/I)(L/I)_

_(F/I),_

_The Alastair and Ackerman histories are not something to be discussed in these letters. It gives too much away._

_Train harder. The Survey Corps doesn’t want cannon fodder._

_I’ve never heard of this Mikasa brat. Probably a distant relation if any._

_Stop spending so much time with Erwin. I don’t care if I’m a hypocrite. That’s an order._

_Your enlistment is looming. Don’t be impatient. It’s annoying._

_-L.A._

_L,_

_I suppose your response was so curt to balance out how much I got from you in your previous letter. Fine; I should have expected it._

_Please, clarify the chain of command for me. Are you in a position to be giving me orders if I’m still in training? This shade of green doesn’t look great on you, Captain._

_That reminds me_ — _Erwin has assured me my Survey Corps application requirements will be waived. The Disbanding Ceremony is next month._

_I’ll see you soon._

_-(F/I)(L/I)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All righty, I hope you liked this half fluffy, half super important update!
> 
> I wanted to expand on the idea of Erwin passing letters between you and Levi in a fun way, and settled on a simple chapter-of-nothing-but-letters to accomplish that. However this chapter also functions as a big time skip - I tried to indicate in the letters that time was passing and the next time we see you, dear reader, will be as we approach the conclusion of your training. I decided on this approach for two reasons. One, it's a way to bring you, the protagonist, back into Levi's company sooner rather than later in a way that made sense to me and remained canon-compliant. Also, I had a hard time imagining Erwin frequenting the Cadet Corps training grounds for the same reasons and, honestly, didn't think another means of letter exchanging really suited the story. 
> 
> Don't worry - I still have every intention of circling back to your relationships with the 104th while maybe, perhaps, possibly, introducing more new canon characters as well *winks suggestively*.
> 
> Thank you for reading and stay tuned!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com)  
> Thank you for the feedback on the last chapter! <3 I'm happy the time skip came across effectively ^.^ We're kicking things off here at the end of your training.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this update ~~

_Year 850_

There’s a thrum of energy running through you as you stand beside a gaggle of other cadets. The road leading to Trost’s southern gate is lined with onlookers, you and the other fresh graduates from the 104th among them. It’s the day of the Disbanding Ceremony and the sun is as high in the sky as the energy of the 104th. The buzz of the crowd is contagious.

Commander Erwin and his Scouts are approaching on horseback, heading for the gate and an expedition beyond Wall Rose. Your heart is in your throat as you first see Erwin, impossible to miss as he towers tall and proud astride his horse, and then, just behind him in the ranks, is Levi.

With great effort you keep your face still. Your arms are crossed over your chest and your hands are clenched in fists, nails digging into your palms. Every pore, ever hair, every cell on your body seems to sense him, pulling you towards him as if his skin were a magnet. But you know better. Three years of training, three years of secrets, are not going to be wasted because you can’t control yourself the first time you’re in his presence since that night.

He looks good, you observe with a shaky exhale. Hardly anything about him has changed except, you note, he’s taken to wearing a white cravat around his neck that he obviously thinks is incredibly fashionable. You think to laugh but feel more inclined to weep. Your relief is palpable, seeing him this way — no missing limbs, no visible deformities. The green cloak and wings of freedom on his back inspire an entirely new feeling in you than when you last saw him in them. They’re a symbol not only of his mission, the far-away goals of the Survey Corps, but now of yours as well.

His impassive eyes scan the crowd. You’re vaguely aware that Eren is excitedly pointing out Levi to Armin and Mikasa on your left. Levi’s attention is caught at the sound of his name and you see his lips move, almost definitely in some snide remark about Eren’s outburst.

Then his eyes fall on you. His lips part and his eyes widen, just slightly. You inhale sharply through your nose and fight harder not to show any emotion when, really, you could just about burst.

A wave of old feelings have crashed over you. You’re reminded of the balmy evenings over pots of tea, warm afternoons in front of notebooks, late nights during which you were separated only by a thin wall, hyper aware of his presence just on the other side. You bite your lip, your only indication of what you might be thinking, and Levi’s expression settles into something different — his eyes shift and he cocks one thin eyebrow before he’s passed you and is forced to turn his head.

“(Y/N)?”

It’s Armin. He’s left Eren to chat animatedly at Mikasa and inched to your side.

“Hm?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from the Captain’s back.

“Do you know Captain Levi?”

You shut your eyes and clench your fist tighter under your armpits. Goddamn Armin; not a thing escapes him.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What made you think that?” You pray you sound convincing.

“I just thought…never mind.” He looks at you with his big, perceptive eyes and you wonder if he somehow has it all figured out.

The crowd has thinned considerably. “Come on,” you say, desperate to distract him, “they’re gone. Let’s head to our stations.”

“Right.”

* * *

Atop the wall, strapped into the now familiar weight of your gear, equipped with blades and a full tank of gas, you gaze out over the lost territories of Wall Maria. You and the others have been assigned to cannon maintenance. You, however, are thoroughly distracted. Levi and Erwin are out there with their Scouts now, the only ones brave enough to venture outside the prison of humanity’s only remaining lands. Will Levi make it back alive? It would be a cruel twist of fate to lay eyes on him for the first time in so long only to find it was also the last.

Deep in thought, you gaze out at the lush green terrain and pull your hair loose. In your hands is the red tie you use to secure your hair out of your face. Made of sturdy fibers, it’s served as a reliable means of tying your hair in its long low ponytail throughout much of your time in the Cadet Corps. It’s as much a part of your uniform as your jacket or harnesses.

The other cadets have picked up a light conversation about the branches they’re joining while you put your hair back up and tie the red knot tight. You, like Eren, have made it clear from the start where you intend to end up, so they leave you to your thoughts as they chat amongst themselves. From what you do hear you gather that Erwin might be getting more new recruits than he dared hope for.

The conversation around you shifts as Sasha appears with meat she stole from the officers’ pantry. You shake your head and chuckle, feeling a glow of affection for your comrades as they bicker over her small rebellion.

You turn your attention back to the horizon and ponder the energy you can sense down below. Like the buzz of a thousand mosquitos, 50 meters beneath you. It’s much the same sensation you pick up from Eren, only amplified tenfold by his near proximity.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a remarkable crack of thunder.

Instinctively, you brace your feet against the top of the wall in a fighting stance. The others, like you, are frozen in place, squinting against the light. Your ears ring from the noise. Your vision stabilizes as the light diminishes.

_A…Titan?_

Its massive, grotesque features loom over you, bigger than anything you could have imagined. _The Colossal Titan,_ flits across your consciousness amidst layers of fear, adrenaline, and — somewhere in there — a primal urge to flee. Before anyone can react you’re all thrown off the wall by a gust of hot steam. For a moment you’re free falling. Then, your heart pounding against your ribcage, your years of training take over and you pull the triggers of your 3DM gear to sink your anchors into the wall.

Your boots skid down the surface for several heart-stopping moments before you lurch to a stop. Your mind feels as good as scrambled eggs. You don’t know where your attention should be. On your comrades? On the Titan? And then the claws of raw panic tear at your gut and you whip your head around to look at the gate. Your stomach drops as your worst fears are confirmed.

It’s gone. Completely smashed in.

Your mind seems to go black as you whip your way back to the top of the wall. You dimly register the Titan vanishing and then an officer commanding you to report to HQ for assignments. A warning alarm peals from the bell tower and people begin a mad rush to Trost’s northern gate for evacuation.

At HQ, through your haze, you dimly register your assignment (the middle guard with the other cadets) and carry out a harried routine check of your gear. And then you’re on the field.

Titans are sauntering in, one by one, the same way you might meander about on a casual afternoon stroll. They’re more hideous than you ever could have thought up on your own; huge, stupid, naked beasts mimicking the appearance of humans. Your training takes over in a way that you couldn’t have anticipated. It’s almost like a drunken blackout, but instead of seeing through a sluggish cloud of alcohol you feel as if your senses are amplified by a stimulant that tears through your veins with reckless abandon, electrifying your entire body. You whip through the air and sprint over rooftops and sink further into the recesses of your mind as your comrades, the kids you trained with for three years, drop like flies. Snatched from the air by giant hands or cavernous mouths like butterflies in a net.

Several thoughts play through your head over and over again.

_Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die, don’t die._

_Where is Levi? Will he come back? Will he survive?_

_Don’t die._

_Kill the Titans_

_Don’t die._

_You’re not invincible._

You remind yourself of the last as you slice through the meat of the Titans’ napes again and again. There’s shots of adrenaline coursing through you like nothing you’ve experienced before. One by one they drop beneath your blades but it’s never enough. They keep coming, three meter, ten meter, fifteen meter classes. No end in sight. All around you soldiers are screaming and bleeding and dying as you continue to slay the Titans. As you continue to survive.

_Is this how Kristoff felt?_ You ask yourself in a moment of clarity, your friends dying on all sides. And in that second you know it’s true — you’re not a strong enough fighter for your kill count to be climbing so high on skill alone. If you were like the others, if you didn’t possess this trait, you would already be eaten alive like so many of the cadets already have. What the Military Police, what Levi, what Erwin all speculated about you is true. The Titans pass you by as if you were a part of the landscape.

_You’re still not invincible._

_Don’t die._

This split second of awareness in which your trance is broken is enough for you to falter. You catch sight of two soldiers in cadet jackets, indicated by the crossed swords on their crests, struggling with a bearded Titan.They come into sharp relief when you realize you’re looking at Eren and Armin. Armin is sprawled on the roof. Eren is being eaten.

“ _Ere_ —! _”_ you begin a desperate cry of his name, but allowing the distraction is your fatal mistake. Your anchor loses purchase and you spiral towards the ground. Your lucid dream state is clearly what was sustaining you; your training abandons you and you entirely lose sense of which direction is up and then time runs out. 

You’re on the ground. You landed hard on your side and skidded so you’re up against a wall, down the street from Armin. You wonder, distantly, if he can see you from where he is. Is he okay? Did anyone else nearby witness what happened? You sense, around the pain from your fall, Reiner, Bertolt and Annie a street or so down. Close enough to see you fall? The mosquitos buzz, omnipresent, not so far away at all.

With the wind so thoroughly knocked out of you, your head spinning, your hip, arms, and ribs all throbbing with pain, it’s several moments before you notice not one but two Titans approaching. Your hands are still clutched around the hilts of your blades, but all your will has abandoned you.

_How many people did I watch die? How many_ kids _did I watch have the life drained from them as I was slaughtering Titans?_

It’s a struggle even to lift your head. The two Titans — a three meter and a six meter class — are not even half a block away. Despite knowing instinctively that you too inherited Kristoff’s immunity trait, your stomach turns over and the cold fingers of fear trace the length of your spine.

_Will I be eaten alive? Do I deserve to die here?_

One of them looks at you with its chilling, vacant eyes. Unseeing. They wander past, further into Trost.

You groan and stand on shaky legs. As soon as you’re upright you fall back down, onto your hands and knees, and retch violently. Your stomach lurches in one last heave and you’re done, wiping your mouth.

_Focus_.

Quickly, you do a sweep of your body and equipment. You’ll be thoroughly bruised and sore tomorrow but by some miracle you haven’t sustained any debilitating injuries. Your gear is intact although you’re low on blades and gas. You shut your eyes and, unbidden, a memory of one of Levi’s letters comes to you.

_Train harder. The Survey Corps doesn’t want cannon fodder._

It was a close race but you had managed to graduate tenth of your class. You stand here on the streets of Trost now, your own kill count having gotten so high you couldn’t have kept track even in your right mind, and yet you almost let your will to fight escape you. You can all but _hear_ Levi sneering his disappointment at you.

_Pathetic._

“Argh!” you scream in rage, fear, and despair at the walls of the abandoned houses around you.

Your mind goes blank again.

* * *

If asked to recount what happened in reclaiming HQ you’re not sure you could provide a sufficient report. It’s all a blur, broken by images of shattered glass, old rifles, and the storeroom’s lift. You recall rendezvousing with Jean, Armin, Christa, Connie, Mikasa. Was Sasha there? Ymir? Who knows? Bertolt, Annie, and Reiner spring to mind in one strike of lucidity, their faces associated with that humming you’ve felt around them since you met. You recall Reiner eyeing you queerly, Bertolt shooting you looks as they converse with Annie in low voices. One other memory, a startlingly clear one, stands out in stark contrast against the haze of the rest.

_You’re soaring across rooftops on what little remains of your gas. The objective is to reclaim HQ so you can resupply gas and climb the wall. You’re en route when Mikasa falls, her dark hair concealing her face. She used too much gas, you realize with a lurch. You refrain from looking for as long as you can but no, you ignored all the others. You come to a stop on a shingled rooftop, disregarding Jean’s frantic cries to push forward. You’ll look at the Titan that kills Mikasa. You’ll face this reality with this rare shred of awareness you’ve been granted from your battle-crazed trance._

_You swallow hard as you see it approach her. You don’t have enough gas left to help. You feel hot, angry tears leaking from your eyes and blink them away. She’s just standing there, for a moment looking like she’s given up. But no, she dodges its advances and you know she’s like you_ — _her instincts take over. It’s why you’re both so strong, in your own ways._

_Then_ — _a bolt of lightning. You turn slowly and standing not far away is a fifteen meter class Titan. It turns to face you, then to the Titan advancing on Mikasa. Your stomach drops. That chilling fear washes over you again, this time borne of disbelief. The Titan has striking green eyes, a lipless mouth, long strands of brown hair. You recognize it as if you had seen it just yesterday. It’s the Titan from your vision in the training yard during your first months as a cadet._

_You know without a sliver of a doubt that it’s Eren._

_Eren has turned into a Titan._

You shake your head roughly as your gas canister shifts into place with a satisfying _click_. The normalcy of the redundant act you’ve taken care of countless times feels perverse after everything that has happened. You feel nauseous. The headquarter’s storeroom momentarily swims out of focus.

As is often the case with him, you don’t notice Armin appear at your side until he speaks.

“(Y/N).”

“Armin,” you reply without looking at him, nothing else to say coming to mind.

“(Y/N), I saw…after Eren got eaten.” You shut your eyes. You know exactly what he’s going to say to you. “The way those Titans took no interest in you at all. You’re different somehow, aren’t you? Different from the rest of us.”

_I’m sorry, Levi,_ you say to yourself, overwhelmed by the crushing feeling of failure. _I’ve been discovered after all._ Did he survive the expedition? Were the Scouts recalled to Trost to fight? Will you ever see him again?

_Likely not_ , you accept grimly. _Kristoff, I’ve followed exactly in your footsteps. We’re meeting the same fate. The Alastairs have been doomed to go extinct for a century. The line finally ends with me._

You ponder briefly why you’re only now thinking of yourselves as Alastairs after a lifetime of going by (L/N).

Armin is crouching patiently at your side, a canister of gas in his hands forgotten. You can’t bring yourself to formulate an excuse. You know it would be futile with someone as intuitive as him. You just smile sadly and stand to walk away, fully aware your fate is in his hands now.

“(Y/N)!” he calls after you. “I won’t give you away. If that’s what you need. I…I have this hunch about you.” 

You stop with your back still to him.

“Thank you, Armin.” 

“Wait,” he says and you feel you owe him enough respect to at least face him. You meet his wide, childlike eyes with yours.

“I can’t guarantee I’m the only one who saw.” He swallows nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing. “Be on your guard.”

You nod resolutely.

It’s on this day you learn Armin’s hunches are to be trusted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life, the world, the universe, are all about balance. So naturally, a light fluffy chapter of letters will be followed by a big honking plot-driven chapter with lots of bad shit goin' down.
> 
> How do we feel about the shift in tone? I probably rewrote the battle of Trost scenes like 80 times, minimum. I want to weave the protagonist into the canonic plot without dredging the fic down with details we already know from watching/reading AOT. I plan on incorporating more scenes from canon in the future - is there anything different you would like to see in my retelling? I invite you (like always) to leave a comment letting me know what you liked and disliked about the fic!! I am open to feedback and constructive criticism!!!!
> 
> Thanks for reading <3
> 
> P.S. - Let's all take a moment to appreciate Armin. Sweet, intelligent Armin, too good for this world.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com) ~
> 
> Hello, readers! As I have twenty times already, I want to remind you how your comments make my heart sing. Those of you who shared your thoughts on the last update were SO kind and SO encouraging. I really take your feedback to heart. I want this fic to be as great an experience for you as it has been for me!
> 
> Enjoy xx

When you wake up you can’t tell where you are.

There’s people milling about. Soldiers, you realize. Their jackets bear the unicorn crest of the Military Police. Slowly, your surroundings settle into clarity. A pounding ache resounds in your skull. You’re outside, on a stretcher. You blink hard. No longer in Trost. The buzz of energy you felt from some of your comrades, rampant throughout the battle, is very far away.

_ How did I get here? _

“She’s awake!” a male soldier cries from your right.

“Restrain her already!” comes a response from somewhere behind you.

“What? Look at the state she’s in.”

“ _ Restrain her _ !” the order is repeated. “The walls have been breached! Titan sympathizers cannot be allowed to roam free!”

_ Fuck. _

Gritting your teeth against the pain you spring up in one not-so-graceful motion. For a second your head spins. Your eyes regain focus just in time to see an MP rushing at you with blades drawn. You dodge him and realize you’ve been stripped of your gear. Employing your hand-to-hand combat training, you kick out your leg and knock him down. Other soldiers become aware of the skirmish and you spin around at the same moment an officer brings down the hilt of his blade on your head.

The world goes black.

* * *

You’re peeling potatoes in Levi’s kitchen.

The sun is shining high and beaming through the open windows to warm your face. The water pump is dripping excess water slowly, steadily.  _ Drip, drip, drip.  _ You feel warm, inside and out, and content. Your smooth hands, uncalloused hands, hands that have never wielded dual blades, work the kitchen knife to deftly peel away strips of skin.

You peel a strip away.  _ Drip. _

Are you really in the kitchen?

Another strip.  _ Drip. _

It’s not so sunny outside anymore.

Peel.  _ Drip. _

You’re lying down.

Peel.  _ Drip. _

Each slice at the skin brings something else into focus. Your mouth is dry. The air is dank.

Peel. 

_ Drip. _

Your eyes fly open and you bolt upright.

You’ve been moved a second time. A hard, uncomfortable mattress is beneath you, the room is illuminated by flickering torchlight and shadows dance across stone walls. Somewhere not so far off, water is dripping steadily against stone. You blink several times, trying to clear the cobwebs of sleep and what is surely a concussion. As the room slowly stops spinning you take in another significant detail: you’re behind bars.

You lick your dry, cracked lips and glance around for water. All you see are shackles mounted to the wall. Slowly, you jostle your wrists and ankles, sighing with relief when you realize you’re unrestrained. Everything hurts.

People are talking — men. It takes several tantalizing moments for your mind to place that they are three very familiar voices.

Your aches and pains forgotten, you scramble from the bed and rush to the front of your cell. Gripping the bars with both hands you peer out into the gloom.

_ Levi _ .

He’s here with Erwin, holding a discussion with the person in the next cell who you’re certain now is Eren. You’re desperate to call out Levi’s name, reach out to him through the bars.  _ We finally meet after all this time…like this. _ You screw your eyes shut and lapse into the character you played in the Cadet Corps.

“Eren!” you cry his name instead, interrupting some threatening soliloquy Levi was forcing him to sit through. Levi and Erwin both turn their attention to your cell. Levi’s gaze is menacing as your eyes lock. “Eren, are you okay?”

“...(Y/N)?” he says, a sudden realization clear in his voice. You don’t break eye contact with Levi. Chains clank against each other and you know Eren’s been restrained. “What are you doing here? I’m fine, are you?”

“Yes I— ” Levi moves quickly and is before you in an instant. He slams a flat hand on the bars over your head, hard enough to make them rattle. The look on his face is murderous.

“(Y/N)?” questions Eren nervously.

“Cadet,” Levi drawls in a low, dangerous voice. The cool unfamiliarity he laces the word with leaves a sour taste in your mouth. “You’re in Military Police custody.” 

Three years apart wasn’t enough to make you forget how to read him. _ You fucked up, brat,  _ the look in his eyes tells you.

Your own eyes narrow as whatever positive emotions you were feeling at the sight of him recede into anger.  _ How was I supposed to anticipate the wall would be breached?  _ your glare replies.

Levi studies you through the bars, taking in the purple bruise clouding your forehead, your knotted hair, your disheveled clothes, and nearly quakes at the thought of how near you came to death.

He rattles the bars again.  _ Idiot. _

You bare your teeth at him and almost launch into a defensive verbal tirade when Erwin rises from a chair to stand at Levi’s shoulder.

“Cadet,” he says in that same clipped tone that suggests he doesn’t know you. “We only just received permission to see you and Eren.”

You read between the lines with him as well. Your boiling blood cools as your eyes flick away from Levi just long enough to note the two MPs guarding the entrance to the dungeon.

“Is Wall Rose lost?” you ask, fighting to keep your frustration with Levi under control.

“No,” replies Erwin curtly. “Eren sealed the hole.”

You inhale sharply. You don’t need to ask any further questions to know your instincts were right — that green-eyed Titan was Eren.

“Where am I?” you demand, the words dripping with venom.  _ And how did I get here?  _ Your memories are so jumbled you can’t even say how much time has passed.  _ Who sold me out?  _ You know in your gut it wasn't Armin. You’re sickened by the revelation that you may never know.

Erwin sighs. “A dungeon.”

_ No shit,  _ you want to retort. But your anger is directed at Levi, not Erwin, so you keep your lips clamped shut in a hard line.

How  _ dare _ Levi insinuate that this is your fault. Was he fucking there? No. Does he  _ dare _ suggest you should have sat on the sidelines and watched your friends get eaten just so you wouldn’t be discovered? Your eyes bore into his through the bars, searching for answers. Any remorse over your botched reunion fled your mind as soon as he sauntered over here and had the  _ nerve _ —

He backs away from the bars and breaks eye contact, exiting the dungeon without another word. You watch him go, indignation replaced with ambivalence, as Erwin speaks.

“Bide your time, Cadet,” he murmurs softly.

“Sir,” you reply, feeling suddenly defeated, “what will happen to me?”

He awards you a much warmer gaze than Levi could be bothered to and you know that he is thinking back to your late night meetings on the training grounds. “We want you in the Survey Corps, Cadet.” You hear the words he leaves unsaid:  _ as planned. _

You nod feebly and, after a second, step back from the bars and salute.

“Commander.”

Erwin always finds something humorous about your use of these formalities with him. You’re rewarded with the upturned corners of his lips before he too leaves the dungeon.

You sigh and slump against the bars.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

Chains rustle in Eren’s cell.

“Tell me about it.”

* * *

If the guards’ changes in shifts are anything to go by, a whole forty-eight hours pass before anyone comes for you.

In that time, your rigid jailers forbid you to talk to Eren and oh so generously slip you each a total of four cups of water and four loaves of bread through the bars. The first helping you chug back and scarf down with an aching need you haven’t known since childhood. Once you make peace with the fact that these meager rations are all you’ll have to sustain you, you begin savoring them more. By the time the last helping comes you nip at the bread and sip the water frugally. 

You dip your middle finger in the droplets that cling to the tin cup once it’s drained and swipe it across your cracked lips. With the moisture that remains you slick your tangled hair back into one long, neat braid secured at the end with your red tie. Sadly, nothing can be done about the filthy clothes you’ve been in since the attack on Trost.

And then you pace.

Just when you begin to think you’ve worn a path into the stone floor a woman appears at your cell. She has shaggy brown hair tied high on her head. With much relief you notice the wings of freedom on her brown leather jacket.

“(Y/N)?” she says excitedly, her face pressed against the bars. Her glasses glint in the torchlight.

You stop dead in your tracks. “Yes?” There’s something maniacal about the look in her eyes.

“You’re up first!”

_ Up first?  _ You wonder.  _ A hearing, finally? _

A man joins her in front of your cell, tall, strong-nosed, and dirty blond. He holds a pair of handcuffs through the bars.

“Sorry, you’ll need to be in these,” says the woman in a playful voice.

Silently, you approach the bars and turn around with your hands behind your back. Once your wrists are shackled, the bars creak open. You step out hesitantly, trepidation stewing in the pit of your stomach.

As you march past Eren’s cell you take in his sleeping form. He’s flat on his back, chained to the wall and looking just as defeated as you feel. Defeated and also very, very young. 

A fissure in your heart cracks just a bit deeper.  _ A soldier, yes, but also a child. _

The MPs eye you with distaste as you march out behind the Scouts. It takes a great force of will not to spit at their feet.  
Your escorts lead you upstairs and you blink against the daylight that streams through the grated windows on the ceiling.

“I’m Hange Zoë,” declares your female companion once you’re in the hall. She drapes an arm around your waist like you’ve been close friends your whole lives. “I’m a Squad Leader in the Survey Corps. So is Mike,” she says with animation.

As if on cue, Mike leans right into your personal space and sniffs your hair.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you demand of him incredulously, any sense of decorum left behind in your cell.

Hange laughs boisterously and Mike sneers, clearly unoffended. The two armed MPs tailing you don’t utter a sound.

“He does that often. Gets him a good read on people. But ah, look,” she sighs, “we’re here.” You and your escorts stop at a pair of double wood doors. Hange swings them wide and the MPs begin ushering you in. “Don’t worry,” she continues, “Erwin seems to have a good feeling about you.”

You open your mouth to reply, but the doors bang shut and you’re pushed inside a vast courtroom.

The walls are lined with spectators — military personnel, plainclothes civilians, and wallists dressed in robes and dripping with iron jewels. You scan the crowd as the MPs roughly nudge you forward. Your eyes fall on Erwin and Levi to your left. Hope dares to flutter in your chest.

You reach the center of the room before a tall metal post sprouting erect from the floor. One of the MPs forces you onto your knees as the other binds you by the handcuffs to the post with a resounding  _ clank _ .

“Ugh!” you cry as you hit the ground. Slowly, you lift your face to look up at the man in the raised pews directly before you.

_ Is that… the Commander-In-Chief? Darius Zackly? _

“(Y/N) Alastair, a soldier sworn to protect the public. Is that correct?”

You simply stare up at him, for some reason uninclined to correct his use of your father’s name. “Yes.”

“This hearing will be a military tribunal where ordinary laws do not apply. We are here today to determine if you are beneficial or detrimental to humankind. Whether you live or die. Understood?”

_ Shit. _

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I will determine if you are placed in Military Police or Survey Corps custody based on each regiments’ proposals. Commander Nile,” the Commander-In-Chief addresses the Military Police Commander.

“Sir,” begins the dark-haired man on your right. “The Interior Police were entrusted with Alastair’s brother five years ago when presented with this very same issue then,” Nile begins. “He was deemed a threat to humankind and a Titan sympathizer when he failed to offer explanation in a similar tribunal for his condition of immunity to Titan detection. It is common knowledge that no human is safe from the Titans and thus, anyone who appears otherwise poses a threat simply on the basis that their allegiance is unknown. If awarded custody of the girl my officers will hand her over to the Interior and she will be dealt with in the same manner as the boy was.”

Hot, ugly rage rises higher and higher in your gut like acid as Nile speaks.  _ Kristoff was never a threat to anyone, _ you want to scream.  _ He only wanted a better life. _

“Very well,” says Zackly, oblivious to the way your teeth are grinding in your skull at the injustice of it all. “Commander Erwin, the Survey Corps’ proposal.”

“Yes, sir,” comes Erwin’s deep, soothing voice.

You take a long, steadying breath and fix your gaze on him and Levi. Levi is pointedly looking anywhere but at you. You want to cry out, demand that he meet your eyes. You want to show him how sorry you are that things turned out this way. That it was out of your control.

“(Y/N) showed unmatched prowess on the field and was instrumental in limiting the number of casualties in her ranks. We wish to enlist her as a member of the Survey Corps’ Fourth Squad under the command of Squad Leader Hange, who will monitor her and perform a safe but thorough physical survey to glean any information from her that could be beneficial to the advancement of humankind.”

“Is that all?” asks Zackly.

“Yes,” replies Erwin. “Hange is an able Squad Leader who can surely keep (Y/N) in check. Her skills are invaluable and we believe she will be put to better use alive and fighting than dead in the Interior.”

“Nonsense!” a man cries behind you. You crane your neck to see one of the wallists quaking with emotion. “What if she takes some action to further dismantle the walls? I wouldn’t be surprised if she, like the brother five years ago, played a role in the breach!”

You snarl to yourself.  _ Where do these harebrained ideas even come from? _

“But look at her!” says another man, dressed richly but plain. A merchant, perhaps? “She’s just a girl, Pastor. You’re telling me she took down the gate in Trost? There are people who saw the Titans break it down.”

_ Just a girl?  _ You stifle the frustration that blooms in your chest at the demeaning remark. You can, perhaps, use this to your advantage.

“Exactly!” the pastor exclaims. “She is clearly in league with them. If allowed to roam free, especially with the Scouts beyond the walls, she will have ample opportunity to conspire with the enemy!”

Zackly bangs on the table before him several times. “Order!” he calls over the din. “Alastair, can you continue to defend humankind, wielding your immunity in favor of the people within the walls?”

Subtly, you pout your lower lip and sweep the room with shining, pleading eyes. “Yes, sir, I swear it.” You swallow thickly and summon a single tear to trickle down your face. The tear, at least, is not phony at all. “To imply that I am in league with the Titans… me, a poor girl from the Underground merely seeking a better life? Would you suggest that I can talk to Titans?” You sense uncomfortable shifting from the direction of the wallist. “How can I be on their side? I watched my friends die at their hands.” You allow your voice to quaver with authentic emotion. “I dedicate my heart to humanity!” you cry, more tears falling.

_ Kris, were you ever given the chance to defend yourself? _

People around the courtroom are turning to their neighbors to murmur over what you said. It’s feeling as if the tides have turned in your favor until someone from the clump of Military Police officers speaks up.

“And what about the brother? Why should she live when he was put to death without question?

“Please!” you cry, fresh tears falling. Hot, shameful tears at what you know you need to say next. “I didn’t have contact with my brother from the time he left home for the Cadet Corps. I…I know nothing of his misdeeds or his crimes against humanity. His goals were not mine,” you lie convincingly through your tears.

_ I’m sorry, Kris. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…  _

Your eyes are locked on Zackly but you can  _ feel _ Levi finally looking at you.  _ He has to know it’s a lie _ , you tell yourself.

“Let her go already!” shouts the same merchant who came to your defense against the pastor.

“Yeah!” come the supportive cries of several other people in the room.

“(Y/N) Alastair,” calls Zackly over the noise. A hush falls over the room. “I’ve made my decision. You will be placed into the custody of the Survey Corps.”

Slowly, you allow yourself to blink away the remaining tears and look up at Levi. You easily read what’s written across his otherwise impassive face.

_ You got lucky. _

* * *

“I thought I’m in Survey Corps custody now,” you spit at the two MPs tailing you with rifles.

“Don’t get cocky,” one of the men grumbles in response. “You’ll be monitored until you’re officially handed off.”

You decide that if you spend any more time around MPs your teeth will be ground down to nubs. Perhaps it has to do with your strong feelings about Kristoff’s murder, but their treatment of you in the dungeon and clear opposition in the hearing certainly haven’t help your opinion of them.

A short ways down the corridor they steer you towards an unassuming door.

“Get in,” the other one says. “We’ll be posted outside, so don’t even think about wandering out.”

You turn on the threshold and fix him with the same pleading eyes you wielded in the courtroom.

“But, sir,” you say, the words dripping with honey. His eyes soften slightly. “What if I need to take a shit?”

His face hardens and he slams the door in your face.

_ Ha. _

You spin around as the door’s lock  _ clicks _ into place and survey the small room, likely used for lawyers to meet with their clients before trial. The modest space holds nothing but a desk, chair, and bench. A glass-paned window over the desk lets in the warm midmorning sun.

Sighing heavily, you slump into the desk chair. You prop your elbows on the tabletop and rest your face in your hands to pick apart the events of the hearing.

_ I can’t believe I got away with that. _

The sun continues to rise higher as you wait for someone to come. Eventually you take to pacing round and round the cramped space. You deduce in this way that the Survey Corps officers are in Eren’s trial.  _ Walls _ , you think to yourself,  _ if they were that hard on me surely Eren will have it worse _ .

The sun has inched to its peak when he arrives.

“Move,” comes Levi’s bored demand through the wood door.

Your heart lurches and you whip around to face it.

“On whose orders?”

“On  _ my  _ orders,” Levi drawls. “She’s the Survey Corps’ problem now.”

A beat passes where all you can hear is your heart hammering in your ears. Then, keys jingle in the lock and Levi walks in, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Your mouth opens and closes like that of a fish as you try to sort through the rush of thoughts and feelings that overcome you. He’s almost exactly as you remember — fit, clean cut and intimidating in a lackadaisical way that puts men twice his size on their guard, like a coiled snake ready to strike. You hungrily take in his raven hair, heavy gray eyes, and sharp jaw. He’s here, not passing by on horseback, not in a crowd in the courtroom, but standing mere steps away from you, alone, for the first time since that night.

_ That night _ .

Your heart skips again and your eyes fall to his lips, the memory of the way they felt against yours resurfacing after so long—

“Why the hell are you looking at me like that?” Levi demands, crossing his arms. His eyes rake over you critically and he all but turns his nose up. “You’re disgusting.”

“Levi—”  
“Oi, oi, oi,” he says, holding up a hand. “I’m your superior now, _Alastair._ ” He draws out the name as if he’s accusing you of a terrible crime. Your eyes narrow and the warm cloud of affection you felt dissipates. You hardly have a chance to register how quickly your feelings turn sour. 

_ It was never this way before. _

“You’ll address me as Captain,” Levi tells you.

“Will I,  _ Captain _ ?” you ask, bristling at his tone. “Because I remember a night when you explicitly told me to call you Levi.” The soft skin of your forearm seems to tingle at the memory alone and, by the subtle widening of his eyes, you know Levi is thinking of it too.

But then his brow furrows again and his eyes flash dangerously as he stalks towards you. Suddenly you’re on your guard in a way you haven’t been around him since the night in the tavern. Levi closes the distance between you and balls the front of your shirt in his fist, his face so close to yours you can smell the scent you’d since forgotten: clean soap, a subtle musk, fresh linen. It throws you back into the recesses of your memories and awakens an old lust you long thought was buried. It mingles with your anger towards him in an unfamiliar, erotic way. Suddenly the battle, the hearing, all of it drops away and all you can think about is Levi, his close proximity, his smell, the faded memory of his lips. You note the quickening of his breath and that single, brief moment where his glare softens.

“You think you were my subordinate before?” He growls, seeming to force that threatening sneer back onto his features. “Well look at you now. Now you really need to obey me. Backtalk is insubordination, (Y/N).”

Surely your clouded mind isn’t fabricating that carnal glint in his eyes? Is he feeling the same stirring in his body that you are in yours? You’re so close — just there, inches away, is the soft skin of his throat, the tender place behind his ear, and his smooth lips that you’ve so often craved against yours. Your inner muscles, deep in your belly, clench at the thought.

“Is that so, Captain?” you inject each word with venom and, grabbing him by the wrist, wrench his fist from your shirt and step back, your breath coming in short pants. You need space. Agitation moves in on his face. “Fine. I’ll act like a good little recruit. But don’t you forget — even if I play the part until we’re both blue in the face, I’ll always be more than just another soldier under your command.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he replies in a baleful tone.

Your nostrils flare as broiling indignation creeps in. What is this act he’s putting on with you? Your resolve falters temporarily and you have to force back the memory of the warmth his gaze used to hold when he looked at you.

“What were all your secret letters for if I was really just another soldier?” you spit, accusatory. “And how could we forget everything before my training? Would a Captain really climb naked into his subordinate’s bed if that’s all she was to him?”

You inwardly pat yourself on the back. Three years ago, working as his housekeeper, you would have let Levi walk all over you with that comment about flattering yourself, effectively beating you into submission. But a lot has changed since then.

“Really?” he throws at you. “We’re going to talk about that now?”

“Well we never did back then, when we should have, so no time like the present,” you shoot back.

“Enough.” He makes the simple word sound like a threat. “You’ve gone and put yourself in this position. You should have thought twice about it if you didn’t think you could control yourself from back talking senior officers.” He takes a step forward, back into your personal space. You meet his eye defiantly but his next words disarm you. “All I wanted was to protect you.” The words are kind but his tone is dangerous. “ _ You _ turned your back on  _ me _ and walked directly into danger.”

Silence envelopes the room and you purse your lips. Any questions you had about his hostility towards you are now obsolete. Perhaps this proclamation is explanation enough.

But it’s not enough to satisfy you.

“You’re a fool.”

Levi’s eyes grow wide and his mouth falls open as he steps back, like you’re suddenly a burning furnace he’d gone too close to, too hot to touch. 

“Ugh! You insolent, arrogant, irritating little man. You’re a fool for knowing me and still believing you could control me forever.”

His brows furrow, his scowl deepens, and he’s back on the offensive.

“Maybe I should have broken both of your legs so you could barely manage to take a shit, let alone pull off something like this.”

“No, Levi.” He opens his mouth to correct your use of his name but you don’t give him the chance. Your voice has grown soft yet urgent. “You wouldn’t have laid a finger to stop me. Whether you like it or not you’ve done more for me than you’ll ever know.” You swallow and your face turns pleading — you want so desperately for him to understand that this is not what you want. You want what you had, back then. “The moment you took me in you gave me the chance my brother never had.” You swallow against a lump in your throat. “Having you and Erwin on my side is the only reason I’m here now, able to take control of my own life. And that’s thanks to what you did for me. Just another way we’re connected, and that’s out of your hands.”

Now it’s Levi staring speechless at you. He’s at a loss for words, caught off guard by what you’ve revealed. Several beats go by before he turns and walks to the door. With a hand on the doorknob he turns his face part way.

“The others are in the room next door. We’re leaving as soon as Eren’s cleaned up.”

Before you can reply, before you can ask how Eren is, he wrenches the door open and slams it closed behind him.

You’re alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been another Very Dense Chapter, brought to you by me.
> 
> It has also been a PHAT chapter (4500 words! A doozy for me). I hope you're not feeling bogged down in all the pLoT and the DEtAiLs - I get these ideas in my head and they just won't go away. Suddenly there's a courthouse scene, then a hearing, and boom, 4500 words. If the plot is starting to feel thicc in a bad way, don't hesitate to let me know. The last thing I want is to bore you when this fic is supposed to be about steamy, angsty romance first and foremost (although I tried to offer a taste of that towards the end there). So let m know what you think!
> 
> All that being said...things will likely continue on the angsty romance track next chapter, heheh.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com)

The Survey Corps are nothing like you expect.

Maybe you should’ve seen it coming, considering how well you came to know Levi’s many quirks (most notably his obsessive need for cleanliness). Still, nothing prepared you for the eccentrics you now call comrades.

Oluo effectively creeps you out on the ride to the temporary HQ — a beautiful yet neglected old castle — by poorly impersonating Levi’s quietly commanding presence and poised mannerisms. _What the hell is he playing at?_ you think as Petra, the least intimidating of the bunch, admonishes him for exactly that. Eren too seems thoroughly shaken by the display as you trot beside him en route to the castle.

Petra appears fairly approachable based on your first impression. She seems to be about your age, prettily strawberry blonde yet somewhat hard-headed. You hope you might find a friend in her. She catches your eye after she’s done scolding Oluo and you’re relieved to find her smiling kindly at you.

Mike, of course, has the hair-sniffing habit that you learn is also a great asset in the field. Apparently he can sniff out Titans as well as he can girls’ hair. Fortunately, you seem to be relatively safe from further assaults by his nose after your initial meeting.

And finally, the crown leader of the not-so-normals, your new Squad Leader, Hange. You should have known, you realize, from her flamboyancy in the courthouse that she would be a bit off her rocker. As kind and friendly as she may be, Hange’s morbid fascination with the captured Titans, who she dramatically christens Sawney and Beane, is all the evidence you need that she’s — to put it plainly — incredibly weird.

The ride, at least, is a good opportunity for Eren to catch you up on his tribunal and his probation under Squad Levi’s surveillance. It also affords you the chance to pick apart your… _heated_ interaction with Levi after your hearing. _Maybe…maybe I need to be more patient with him_ , you wonder. Is it possible he’s struggling with coming to terms with this new Captain/subordinate relationship in the same way you are? Either way, losing your cool — like you did both in the dungeon and in the courthouse — is not going to resolve a thing. You need to demonstrate the respect you feel for him, even if what you really want to demonstrate is your lingering affections. You want to get along with him. And, most of all, you want even a hint of a semblance of how things were — whatever you can get in this new normal for you and Levi.

Patience costs nothing, you remind yourself, but impatience bears a hefty price.

When the castle comes into view you force yourself out of your head. Despite their aberrations, the ragtag assembly of Scouts are more welcoming than you dared expect. Petra is, as you hoped, kind and personable during Levi’s ordered cleaning of the castle. You catch her rolling her eyes almost as hard as you once his back is turned, resulting in a shared giggle. While you slave away scrubbing the floorboards of the kitchen, Petra busies herself by sweeping the hallway.

“Wow, you’re really going to town in there,” she teases through the doorway.

 _I know exactly how Levi expects it to be done_ , you think, but don’t dare say out loud.

“I suppose I’m a bit of a clean freak myself,” you tell her.

“I imagine you and the Captain will get alone well then,” she says with a smile.

You think of your tense argument at the courthouse. “Yeah,” you say with a forced chuckle, “maybe you’re right.”

Upstairs, Levi is lecturing Eren on his poor job in the other rooms, sending you and Petra into another fit of giggles.

Your first days in the Survey Corps are not all gossiping and cleaning, however, and it doesn’t take long for things to take a turn for the worse. You’re greeted on the grounds one morning by the sound of Hange’s blood-curdling cries. You run towards them to join other concerned onlookers; Sawney and Beane are decomposing in the yard in clouds of Titan steam.

 _Walls,_ you think around your shock, _this woman is insane_. 

Regardless of the dramatic display (or perhaps because of it) you find yourself suddenly very glad to be under her command. Something about the Squad Leader is undeniably…endearing.

 _Yes,_ you decide with a small smile. _Endearing._

* * *

Shortly after the incident, the new Survey Corps recruits are scheduled to join ranks at the castle. You have to admit that their arrival is almost as welcomed by you as it is Eren. He hurries over to the group as they trickle onto the grounds. You’re fast at his heels.

You all but raise your hackles, however, at the presence of Eren, Ymir, Bertolt, and Reiner all in one place again. The buzzing mosquitoes cut through the relative quiet you’d grown accustomed to being near only Eren.

Maybe you should consider that you’re in denial, especially after what you saw of Eren in Trost. You don’t dare consider the possibility that this “gift”, as Erwin once called it, includes the ability to identify shifters like Eren. _No._ You banish the thought whenever it threatens to surface. There are no others. There can be no others.

You vow simply to go to any lengths necessary to avoid touching them.

The 104th are put up in the barracks and immediately ordered back onto the grounds for drills. The Squad Leaders rally the newest Scouts — you and Eren included — for a series of 3DM drills and strategy reviews before concluding the day with hand-to-hand combat.

Several grumbles rise among the soldiers as you all pair off.

“Why even bother? When will we fight a Titan hand-to-hand?” one, you think Connie, whispers.

“Shut up,” someone replies. Definitely Sasha. “We’re not even in squads yet. You want to get on a Leader’s bad side?”

You smirk and turn to your partner. Mikasa settles instantly into a fighting stance.

“Mikasa,” you say, raising your arms in a defensive posture, “I really don’t think I can take you.”

She tilts her head and you hear her neck crack behind her omnipresent red scarf.

“I’ve seen you fight. I’d say we’re pretty evenly matched.”

You smile and shake your head. “You’re confusing me with Annie.”

Instead of responding, the dark-haired girl takes a swing at you. You manage to duck, but she lands a second one on your left shoulder. You grunt and hop back on light feet, putting space between you. Relentlessly she advances, swiping low kicks at your feet and well-aimed punches at your torso.

_I train with a girl named Mikasa Ackerman. Any relation of yours, by chance?_

The memory of what you asked in one of your letters to Levi comes to you suddenly, as you block a flurry of Mikasa’s attacks.

_I’ve never heard of this Mikasa brat. Probably a distant relation if any._

You note her beautiful, thick black hair and faintly exotic features. Not much like Levi’s at all, you muse, other than the dark hair color. And yet—

Mikasa finally lands a finishing blow, knocking you back into the dirt with a thud. You let out an _oof_ , more like a rush of air than anything else, and stare up at the overcast gray sky as your heart rate settles. _And yet her talent is unmatched_ , you realize. _Unmatched by anyone, perhaps, but Levi._

Your thoughts shift to another letter, one from you to Levi.

_I am impatiently awaiting my formal enlistment in the Survey Corps. I’ll brew you a nice pot of tea to celebrate._

Your cheeks burn with shame as you picture the way he looked at you in disgust after your tribunal.

_Idiot._

Mikasa extends a hand that you gratefully accept. She tugs you to your feet and you brush off the seat of your white pants.

“See?” you tell her, banishing any lingering embarrassment from your head. “I’m no match for you.”

She returns your small smile, but only faintly. “Maybe. You can hold your own though, (Y/N).”

You open your mouth to respond when Mikasa’s attention turns quite obviously to shouting coming from behind you. Following her gaze, you turn to see Jean and Eren in a fight that has devolved from anything like the hand-to-hand you were trained to use.

“You’re gonna rip my shirt, horse face! Let go!” you hear Eren snarl.

“Then stop pulling my hair, you suicidal maniac!” Jean yells back.

Mikasa makes a move towards them but you reach out and grasp her bicep. She looks at you questioningly and, a playful glint in your eye, you shake your head at her.

“Hey, Jean!” you cry. He and Eren both look your way. “Who are you trying to impress? You might want to rethink your strategy; I don’t think a cat fight is the way to do it.”

Jean grimaces and roughly shoves Eren off of him. Eren angrily straightens his shirt and Jean runs a hand through his short brown hair, walking towards you.

“What do you mean, _cat fight_?” he demands, stopping a meter away from you and throwing up his fists.

“I mean,” you say, mimicking his posture, “this.”

You notice several soldiers have abandoned their partners to watch the show you’re now putting on for them. You launch at Jean and, easily evading his defense, grab at the back of his hair the same way Eren had and wrench his head back so he’s facing the sky.

“Argh! What’re you fighting dirty for?”  
You laugh and loop your other arm up around his neck in a chokehold, then use the weight of your own body to pull the two of you down to the ground. Eren is laughing and pointing beside Mikasa while many of the other soldiers are smirking and speaking in low voices.

Then, the snickering stops. You realize it just after everyone else does and hurry to release Jean as Levi approaches, a stormy look on his face.

“Alastair,” he says darkly, crossing his arms. “Are you making a mockery of close combat drills?”

The smile drops from your face as Jean scrambles up and salutes. You stand and follow suit, fist to your heart, as you take in Levi’s tense shoulders, firmly set jaw, and sharp, narrow eyes. You can’t help but feel somewhat ashamed at your childish behavior. Levi’s expression is disapproving but, you see with relief, there’s something else in his eye that could only be described as intrigue.

_He must be wondering if that sort of display is all I learned in the Cadet Corps._

“Sir—” you start, fully prepared to own up to your actions.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he interrupts, dropping his arms. “You’ll demonstrate to me that you’re competent in hand-to-hand or you’ll spend the dinner hour running laps.”

Your jaw clenches as you bite back a retort. _No backtalk,_ you remind yourself. “Yes, sir,” you manage, meeting his cold gray stare. “Who—?”

Levi widens his stance and raises his fists. Shocked, you make no move to mimic him, prompting him to cock an eyebrow at you. _Well?_ you know it to say.

No one is drilling anymore; every soldier in the yard has gathered around you and the Captain, anxious to see this play out. This, you realize, could be your chance to demonstrate how much stronger you are than the girl he once knew.

“Captain,” you begin, your voice laced with a dark silkiness despite your hard-set frown, “are you challenging me?”

“Are you questioning a superior officer?” he counters in a low, smoky voice.

You take a steadying breath and raise your fists.

Levi gives you no time to think. He lunges, quicker even than you imagined he could, and swings at your face. You duck, heart hammering, and twist around him, arms up high to protect your face. He matches your maneuver easily and aims this time at your ribs. You sidestep, his fist grazing your jacket. He lifts his leg to kick your other side and catch you in the evasive motion but you lurch back, barely avoiding his fast-moving boot. Levi gives you no openings at all — you spend several, heart-stopping minutes on the defensive, not making a single offensive move. He circles you like an animal stalking its prey.

Then the tide of the fight turns.

Levi ends the dance by twisting around you and sinking his fist in your hair, nearly ripping it from your scalp. The attack catches you off guard and he uses the opening to drag you down into the dirt, not unlike what you just pulled on Jean. You gasp audibly, thrown off by the pain as much as his sudden nearness. Once he has you flat on your back, he straddles you with his knees pinning your arms down, his forearm on your throat — constricting your airway — and the other hand still in your hair.

He’s breathing hard, the rise and fall of his chest matching yours. For a number of beats you remain this way, staring at each other, some primal heat rising inside you. Not once did you imagine Levi would have you pinned on your back like this, completely at his mercy. There’s a part of you, not so deep down, that wants to completely give in, to allow yourself to turn to putty in his hands. You curse the crowd, the dozens of eyes on you, and wish for the privacy of the moonlit bedroom you shared with him once. You wish fiercely for the chance to offer yourself in complete submission.

Your teeth clench. _What the hell is happening to me?_

Finally he leans closer, just by a fraction of an inch, but it’s enough to turn the position even more intimate. Your face flushes with something other than exertion.

“You should cut your hair,” he murmurs firmly, his lips hardly moving. The order is soft but commanding. You feel the gentle gusts of breath he uses to push out each syllable like they’re moths’ wings against your cheek.

“That was a dirty trick,” you choke out, ignoring his demand, struggling to maintain your composure. The pressure on your throat isn’t letting up.

“I thought you’d know how to fight dirty, considering where we come from.” His tone is harsh, but he relaxes his hold on your neck enough to allow you a deep breath.

“I didn’t realize the line between Captain of the Survey Corps and notorious thug of the Underground would be so blurred,” you hiss, growing more humiliated by the second, painfully aware of your comrades’ eyes on you as Levi revels in your defeat. And, you admit to yourself, you’re disgraced by your own provocative musings. “I won’t make that mistake again,” you finish with vehemence.

You bite your lip, the teeth sinking into the flesh and tugging at it as you contemplate any way of redeeming yourself, both to Levi and to the crowd. Levi’s eyes dart to your mouth and, for the first time, you don’t miss the look. His attention has waived just barely enough for you to find _your_ opening. Without hesitation your buck your hips wildly, throwing him off balance enough that you can free one arm from where he had it pinned and use it to push off the ground and carry your inertia through a not-so-fluid maneuver. When the dust settles, _Levi_ is now wrestling beneath _you_ and, _certainly_ by accident, you’ve settled your hips just over his. Loose tendrils of hair hang around your face, the ends brushing Levi’s forehead and mouth. His brow is bunched and his teeth are bared. With his superior strength, you know you have only a brief window to assert your dominance.

Your heart rate hasn’t settled at all; if anything it’s picked up. Your breaths come in fast, shallow pants.

You reach down to the leg of your left boot.

_“You keep a knife on you, don’t you?” asks Sebastian._

_You nod, accepting the apron he passes across the bar_ — _clearly used -_ — _and lift your skirts higher than is really decent, revealing a plain, worn garter strapped to your left thigh. Tucked securely into it is a knife with a four-inch blade._

_Sebastian is well aware that he’d be hard pressed to find a woman in the Underground who doesn’t make sure to arm herself with something sharp and dangerous._

_“Good,” he smirks. “It’s no secret our girls run into trouble from time to time. I’d prefer if you didn’t pull a knife on our patrons while you’re on the clock,“ he chuckles, “but I wouldn’t be surprised if you find yourself in a situation where a customer likes you a bit too much and pursues you after hours.”_

_You find yourself smiling back in spite of his warning. Truthfully, this isn’t news to you at all. You assumed when you accepted this job that you’d likely be dealing with unwanted attention. It’s your first day and you’re just grateful to have a manager who wants his waitresses to be able to fend for themselves._

_“I hardly know what to do with it,” you admit, letting your skirts fall and tying your apron around your waist for the first time, “other than stick them with the pointy end.”_

_Sebastian laughs his infectious, open-mouthed laugh. “I appreciate your honesty,” he says as he winds down somewhat. He shakes his head, still smiling. “Think about it like this_ .” 

_You watch as he swiftly and inconspicuously kicks up his right boot and pulls his own blade out. In the same, fluid motion, he twirls it around the fingers of his right hand before stabbing it into the bartop so it stands, vibrating from the force of his thrust, even after he releases the hilt._

_“If it’s on your person at all times, like your hands and feet, it’s a part of you. When you pull it out, think of it as an extension of yourself. That idea_ —” _he taps his forefinger to his temple, “_ — _will help you move quickly and decisively when you need to wield it.”_

You slip the very same four-inch blade from your boot now, quickly and decisively, as Sebastian taught you when you were only fifteen. You hold it to Levi’s throat, above the Adam’s apple, with just enough pressure that a touch of red blossoms beneath it.

“I have my own tricks,” you tell him as he immediately stops struggling beneath you.

He narrows his eyes but, to your surprise, remains silent.

“What’s the matter?” you ask with feigned innocence. “I’m not as helpless as you thought?” Your mocking falsetto turns to a hiss, low enough that none of the nearby onlookers can hear. “You don’t like that you’re not as big of a hero as you fancied yourself when you came to my rescue at the tavern?”

Levi’s pupils dilate and he wets his lips. Your breaths disturb the strands of inky hair that fall over his forehead.

“What exactly are you trying to pull here, (Y/N)?”

“I could ask the same of you, Captain.”

There’s silence in the yard for many tense moments before murmurs overtake the soldiers.

“Did she pull a _knife_ on him?”  
“No way he’ll stand for that.”

“She’ll be lucky to get off with laps.”

Now, you cock an eyebrow at Levi. “Surrender?”

He shifts his hips beneath you, just barely, but in a way that you know you’re not imagining the bulge in his pants. A soft _hah_ escapes his mouth. 

Levi’s antagonization awoke something in you. You feel a whole new sort of attraction to him blooming, much like the glimmer you experienced after your tribunal. There’s an erotic red blaze inside you where in the past there was a slow burning blue. It’s irrational — he’s been irritating and condescending and borderline cruel, but then you think of his hand pulling your hair and bearing your throat and your imagination paints the way his lips might move up that exposed flesh and his teeth could drag along your collarbones. It doesn’t stop until you’ve pictured him pinning you down and stripping you naked with those same rough hands completely taking you over, making you his.

Your lips part in silent yearning and his eyes never stray from yours. He puts his hands on your thighs, his fingers digging into the flesh, and slides his hands down so they hook around the backs of your knees. You can hardly believe it — in front o _f everyone_ — your breaths are coming short and irregular, the heat in your face rises, your inner muscles clench deliciously in spite of it all — and then he throws you bodily off of him.

“Ugh,” you grunt, landing on your hip.

Levi stands and peers down at you with an expression that is impossible to read, even for you. It’s something dark and sensual but also…forlorn. Then he shakes his head and you _swear_ you see him smirk, almost as if he’s pleased by something

You watch, bewildered, as he swipes at the small dot of blood at his throat.

“Thirty laps tonight, (Y/N),” he deadpans, any expression you either saw or imagined replaced by his typical stoicism.

Still on the ground, you shove your knife back into your boot and rise to stand. The crowd parts and you watch Levi’s back as he exits the yard, snapping at the nearest recruits to get back to their drills.

You watch him go, fighting to catch your breath.

_What…was that?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta say, that got spicier than I thought it would at this point in the fic. Hopefully no one has any complaints! I mean, aren't we all suckers for angsty sexual tension? I know I am.
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to chat with me on [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com)! ^.^

Two days pass and you’ve still hardly spoken to your new Squad Leader since the hearing. You’re a bit on edge; Hange’s promised that your “perfectly safe physical exam” should be happening as soon as she has the availability in her schedule. You’d like to get it over with rather than wait around; the anticipation is starting to get to you. 

Not to mention your altercation with Levi has gone completely unmentioned by any of your superiors, him included. Your legs are still sore from the laps, serving as a stark reminder that you didn’t dream the whole thing up. You feel a blush rising even at the thought of his hips beneath yours, his breath tickling your mouth. The hours you spent awake that night, mulling it over and over in your mind, offered you no clarity. All it did, as a matter of fact, was make you feel incredibly hot, bothered, and frustrated; sharing a room with several other female recruits meant certain…needs often went unattended.

You shake it off. In the mess hall, you help yourself to a bowl of bland-looking porridge and scan the room for a place to sit. Moblit, Hange’s executive officer and right-hand man, is sitting at the end of a table occupied by Petra and Oluo. You head in their direction, exchanging greetings with some of your friends from the 104th as you pass them a table over.

“Morning,” you say amicably. “Mind if I join you?”

Petra smiles and Oluo tuts in a way that eerily reminds you of Levi.

“Not at all, (Y/N),” says Moblit.

“So,” you say, sitting down across from him. “How’s Hange been since the Sawney and Beane incident? I haven’t heard much from her since my tribunal. I’m curious when my exam will be.”

“Ah,” says Moblit demurely. “She’s in a bit of a slump, as I’m sure you’ve gathered. But she’s also preoccupied with Eren’s tests. I’m sure you can understand controlling his powers is top priority.”

“Of course,” you reply thoughtfully, spooning the mediocre porridge into your mouth. “How’s he doing?” you ask Petra and Oluo.

“He’s out of control,” sneers Oluo.

“Hey, not exactly ‘out of control’,” corrects Petra with a dirty look for Oluo. “But it’s scary stuff we’re dealing with.”

Moblit nods. “Still, it’s a positive distraction for Hange. She’s getting a lot of good intel out of him.”

“Captain!” Petra exclaims suddenly, looking over your shoulder.

You crane your neck around and see Levi has managed to sneak up just behind you. Sasha, Connie, Jean and Armin are looking curiously in your direction from their table.

Levi’s grey eyes find yours and you can sense he isn’t just stopping by to say hello. Before you can even open your mouth to speak he his hand is in your ponytail, wrenching your head back so you’re facing the ceiling. He doesn’t pull nearly as hard as in the yard, but still enough to tug painfully at your scalp.

“Alastair,” he says evenly.

_ He really has a way of making the name sound like a cuss,  _ you think sharply. A hush falls over the nearby soldiers. All eyes are on you.  _ Maybe I should get used to that. _

“When are you going to cut your hair?” he drawls.

You glare at him and grit your teeth, refusing to cry out no matter how hard he pulls. “What’s that,  _ Captain _ ?,” you ask, mimicking the tone he used on your name. “Who are you to tell me what to do with my hair?” 

“I already told you to cut it. It’ll get you killed. Imagine a Titan using it to rip your head from your neck.”

“Oh yeah?”

Oh, how he tests your patience, how mercilessly he pushes you. You once again find your composure — your resolve — deteriorate.

And you react without thinking. With your neck still craned back by the force of Levi’s iron grip, you reach up and tug at his cravat so his face is inches from yours. The same carnal look settles on his features that he wore at the courthouse after your hearing, then again when you sparred with him. You feel the flush creeping up your neck. 

Someone at the next table, surely Sasha, gasps loudly. This only reminds you of the humiliation he caused you, spurring you on.

“What about this thing around your neck? When will you stop wearing this?” The look in Levi’s eyes is murderous. “A Titan could grab it and slam you into a tree.”

No one around you seems to be breathing. You and Levi are at a stalemate. The pulse of his jaw tells you you’re in dangerous territory, but you refuse to back down. After what feels like ages, the spell is broken.

“(Y/N),” says Moblit across from you. His voice is calm but stern. A warning.

You hold Levi’s gaze for another beat, searching it, before you release his cravat. A moment later he gives your hair one more painful tug and lets it go. Positively fuming, you watch him exit the mess hall.

“I...I can’t believe he just left it at that,” says Petra in a small voice.

“(Y/N), that was  _ badass _ !” cries Connie from the next table. 

You look over at your young friends’ shocked faces and adjust your red hair tie with deft fingers. For the second time in a few short days, Levi has left you at a total loss. What could he possibly be thinking? What is he trying to instigate with you?

“Surely he won’t just let that go!” exclaims Sasha.

“Even if he does,” you turn to face Moblit as he speaks, “Hange will hear about it.” A hot, shameful blush creeps up your cheeks.

_ Off to a great start, (Y/N) _ .

* * *

Your brief conflict with Levi in the mess hall, exactly like the one in the training yard, goes largely unmentioned the rest of the day. The atmosphere is tense, however, as you drill vertical maneuvering with the rest of Hange’s squad alongside Levi’s. You spend just as much time training as you do exchanging angry, pointed looks with Levi.

_ You’re being insufferable _ , his eyes tell you.

_ You’re out to get me!  _ Yours reply.

“Alastair! Sloppy maneuver!” he calls aloud, effectively provoking you further.

_ Asshole. _

Unbeknownst to you, Hange’s eyes, alight with curiosity, are shifting between you and Levi from behind her glasses.

It’s the next day when Moblit finally informs you that Hange will meet you in her office that afternoon for your examination.

When the time comes, you take a steadying breath and knock three times. She swings the door open immediately and you’re met with her bright smile.

“(Y/N)! Come in! I’m so glad we finally have the time for this.”

You salute and step in hesitantly, taking in the clutter of books, used mugs, and diagrams strewn about the room. The desk is piled high with papers; the only surface safe from them seems to be the one occupied by what you think is a microscope.

“Yeah…me too,” you reply unconvincingly.

“Don’t be nervous!” she chirps. “I promise I won’t dissect you like the Military Police would.”

“Right,” you say, returning her smile as best you can.

The start of the exam is all business. She has you strip off your uniform so she can poke and prod you however she sees fit. Then she commands you to do several menial physical tasks: touch your toes, pinwheel your arms, pat your head while rubbing your belly.

“All right, get dressed,” she says distractedly while she furiously scribbles notes. “Next I’m taking some samples.”

Unsure what samples she might need you hastily put your uniform back on.

“Sit down!” she cries, unceremoniously swiping some papers off her desk.

You sit across from her while she prepares a syringe she procured from a desk drawer.

“Blood samples. Sorry, but I might need to take a bunch if we find them evaporating like Eren’s does. Have you eaten today?”

You nod and sigh, not exactly squeamish but not quite happy about it either.

“While we do this we might as well multitask,” Hange tells you as she rolls your sleeve up. “We need to talk about Levi.”

“Ah,” you reply, unsure of what else to say.

“I heard about your little disagreement at breakfast yesterday,” she says as she ties a tourniquet just under your elbow. “And the one during drills.”

You prepare yourself for a lecture, maybe even the promise of more disciplinary action.

“I think he likes you,” says Hange instead.

You gape at her. You could kick yourself for the relief you feel wash over you, like a warm embrace. It isn’t until this moment, in fact, that you realize how afraid you were that there was no hope of returning to the comfortable relationship you and Levi once had.

“Don’t look like that!” she laughs, wiping down the skin of your arm with rubbing alcohol. “He might have a funny way of showing it, sure, but I’ve never seen him pull something like that with another soldier before.”

“I — I mean,” you stutter, suddenly picturing your fonder memories of Levi, a gentler Levi leagues away from this abrasive military Captain.

Hange pierces you with her syringe and you almost welcome the distraction the smarting prick offers.

“Don’t worry about explaining yourself. If you’re into short guys I can see the appeal,” says Hange seriously. You don’t miss the playfulness in the twitch of her lips, however. “Hey, it’s not evaporating!” she exclaims, one eye on the syringe and one eye on the tourniquet she’s untying.

“Great,” you say distractedly, unrolling your sleeve before shrugging your jacket back on.

“Not to mention—” Hange deposits the blood on a slide under the microscope, “—I didn’t miss the,  _ ahem _ , looks you were giving each other when we drilled together yesterday.”

You gasp and Hange chuckles as she peers through the microscope.

“Don’t be shy, (Y/N). I’m kind of relieved to see him loosening up a bit. Levi’s been nothing but high strung as long as I’ve known him.” She pauses and you can’t tell if she’s thinking about Levi or your blood sample. “I mean, he might not seem loosened up to you. I have a hunch though.”

“Squad Leader,” you try. “I—”

You what? A dull, familiar ache rises in your chest. You can’t even say how desperately you want her to be right. How after all this time, you want Levi to like you, to more than like you, maybe even to—?

“Looks human to me!” she interrupts your thoughts, lifting her face from the microscope so you can see her grin. Despite how desperately you feel you need to squash Hange’s suspicions beneath your boots, you find her smile contagious. You’re grinning back regardless of the nagging worry, small but persistent, about her perceptiveness.  _ Her and Armin should get along well. _

“Listen,” says Hange and you’re thoroughly disarmed by how abruptly serious she looks. “You need to be careful.”

“Of the Captain?” you manage to sputter.

“Yes, the Captain,” she clarifies. “Levi might seem all surly faces, bathroom humor and intimidation,” says Hange, “but soldiers lead a hard life.”

You’re reminded of Erwin telling you the same thing in Levi’s kitchen, before your training began. That night has begun to feel incredibly far away.

“Hardly a day goes by where we don’t watch our friends die.” Hange sighs, your blood sample temporarily forgotten. “Even if it doesn’t seem like it , with his dry humor and crappy attitude, I’m sure Levi feels very deeply.”

You nod knowingly. Hange looks at you thoughtfully.

“You knew him. Before, I mean. Didn’t you?”

You shut your eyes.

“Yes.”

“I see,” says Hange. She doesn’t ask any more. You wonder just how much she’s piecing together in that big brain of hers. “Then maybe I’m telling you things you already know. But see, the other veterans and I have known each other for a while now too. I guess just…be careful.” She pauses, a morose expression on her face. “We’re broken.”

_ Broken. _

You turn the word over in your mind, struggling to associate it with Levi. Then things begin clicking into place. Being born to a prostitute in the Underground. An upbringing even worse than your own under the care of Kenny the Ripper. The emotionally exhausting, draining life of a Captain of the Survey Corps. You picture the blurred faces you can recall of his companions in the Underground, Farlan and Isabel.  _ Dead _ , he had informed you curtly, years ago already. Perhaps you had taken for granted the more subdued Levi, far removed from the hardships of military life, who you got to know while in his care three years past.

Hange regards you with deliberation as you ponder what she said.

* * *

The 57th expedition beyond the walls comes and goes like a fever dream.

Hange assigns you to support in the left rear flank of Erwin’s Long-Distance Enemy Scouting Formation. The expedition begins according to plan. You depart with the Survey Corps from Karanes District at dawn. Your mission is to defend the secondary supply lines against any Titans that break the formation.

And break it they do. When the conflict between the Scouts and the Female Titan escalates, you’re ordered around the Forest of Giant Trees with the supply line while many of your comrades — Levi and his squad included — go directly through it. At this stage your memory is clear enough to recount the minimal Titan sightings your part of the formation encounters. Your kill count hardly inches above what it was in Trost.

The scream, too, stands out in your mind. An earth-shattering scream that you learn from the report was released by the Female Titan to draw the pure Titans to her in a last-ditch effort to evade Hange’s carefully placed Special Target Restraining weapon.

Angry, devastated tears stain your copy of the report that was passed out to new recruits. Levi’s entire squad is dead, the Female Titan escaped, and Levi is hurt. It’s almost as if the expedition couldn’t have turned any worse.

Frustrated with your own display of emotion, you swipe your tears away with the back of your left hand. Before you can change your mind, you stand and march towards the rooms being used as an infirmary.

You peek into three separate rooms before you find Christa gathering a roll of bandages, a cloth, a glass, and a bottle of liquor. Levi is sitting up in the bed, fully dressed and eyes alert. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“(Y/N)!” exclaims the pretty blonde. “I didn’t expect you here.”

You’re aware of the risk, coming to see Levi in his sickbed. Anyone in the Survey Corps who hasn’t already suspected your shared history will have reason to once word of this gets out.

“Yeah,” you say lamely. “Just checking in.”

Levi is uncharacteristically silent. He regards you with a bland expression.

“He’s fine,” Christa explains for him, looking a bit intimidated as she eyes him nervously. “Nothing serious, just a sprain and dislocated knee. I was worried I couldn’t pop it back on the first try so I had him take some of this,” she says, jostling the bottle of liquor in her full arms.

“Ah,” you respond.

She casts him another anxious look. “He knocked back more than half of it. Don’t be surprised if he’s talking like a drunk.”

You snort. Levi’s lips are still pressed together in a hard line.

“Thanks, Christa.”

She smiles sweetly and leaves the room. You shut the door behind her and pull a chair up to the bedside.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” you scold gently. He shoots you an annoyed glare.

“You know I struggle with sleep.”

You’re caught off guard by this somehow intimate comment. You’ve grown accustomed to how tight-lipped he’s been about the many nights you shared a roof.

“I know,” you say quietly. He leans his head back on the headboard and his face grows a bit slack.  _ So even humanity’s strongest can get tipsy. _

You sit in silence for so long that you begin to wonder if you should cut your losses and leave him alone. But as you’ve been doing a lot recently, you begin to dwell on memories of the time you shared with him before your training. Back then, almost any silence you shared was easy and companionable. You could spend the time basking in the comfort you found in his presence, how safe you felt having him near. Now, you wonder how well you knew Levi after all. Perhaps what you considered in Hange’s office is in fact the case; Levi was a more approachable, relaxed man in the comfort of his own home than he is here, where his rank demands he have his guard up.

You’re poised to stand, to leave Levi alone with his thoughts and accept that, maybe, what he really wants is to shut you out. And you’ll have to respect that, come to terms with the fact that you’re his subordinate now. Nothing more. 

But then he speaks.

“My squad was wiped out.”

You look up to see his eyes are open again. He’s studying a bare spot on the wall.

“I know,” you reply quietly. What else is there to say?

You picture the faces of his squad one by one, your mind’s eye lingering on Petra the longest. A sorrowful ache rises in your chest when you think of her honey-colored hair, her quick and easy smile, and the promise of something like friendship.

“More human lives fucking wasted,” Levi mutters. “More Titan shit.”

“Levi…”

He says no more about it. The sun has begun setting outside the window, casting the room in a warm glow. The sharp smell of liquor still hangs faintly in the air. You’re itching to sit beside him on the bed, take him into your arms. You want to console him, offer some sort of comfort and perhaps receive some in return. But you know you can’t. You’re sure he wouldn’t want you to, even if there was once a time when he had.

“I liked…” He clears his throat, surely not from embarrassment…? “I liked having someone to come home to.”

Your eyes widen at his candor. You wonder if his thoughts had been wandering in the same direction as yours.

A lump forms in your throat.  _ I liked being there for you,  _ you want to tell him. The words die on your tongue. Instead, you allow yourself to take his hand in both of yours.

“Tsk. Brat.”

He squeezes your hand affectionately. Awash with emotion, emboldened by the comforting pressure of his palm in yours, you lift it to your mouth and press your lips against the back of your own hand, praying that he can imagine the heat of your kiss on his skin the way you did when he offered you this same gesture all that time ago.

_ Call me Levi. _

_ Is that appropriate? _

_ Nothing about what we’re doing here is appropriate, (Y/N). _

_ All right, Levi. _

His eyes flutter shut and he sighs deeply, a low, barely audible rumble sounding deep in his throat.

“Levi,” you murmur, your lips moving against the back of your hand, “what happened to us?”

Levi’s eyes open heavily and his gaze slides slowly to you. You’re shocked to read a subtle, pained emotion in his eyes. He regards you with this look for several beats before gently pulling his hand from between yours to rest it, palm up, in his lap.

“You left.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a packed chapter, huh? Really tried to wring some Feelings™ outta the story, I did. What did you think? Believe it or not, we're nearing the end of Part Two already! Before you know it, things will be coming to a head....
> 
> Also, I would be remiss if I didn't shout out Moblit, winner of the Most Underrated Character of All Time Award. God, I love him. Why am I so drawn to him? Why is he such a delight? He deserves the world, my sweet Moblit.
> 
> Until next time! Xx


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you heard? I'm on [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com) ^.^

“Commander, please. I want to assist in the operation.”

You’re in Erwin’s office for the first and likely last time before the Survey Corps’ temporary HQ is once again abandoned. Lunch has just closed and you’re meant to be readying your 3DM gear for drills with the rest of Squad Hange. However, your Squad Leader chose the lunch hour to inform you that you won’t be taking part in the top secret operation in Stohess (less secret where you’re concerned, apparently, because she hinted at it quite heavily during the meal). Nor will you wait on call with the rest of the 104th and Mike Squad.

 _Orders straight from Erwin, (Y/N). I’m sorry,_ she had told you with what sounded like genuine sympathy.

So you decided to tackle the issue at its roots.

Erwin sighs and raises his full eyebrows. You _know_ you should be obeying the chain of command. Of course you know it’s in poor taste to question your Commander’s orders. But why should you hang back with the critically wounded while your comrades are laying their lives on the line? Not to mention that you want to do your part in keeping Eren out of the hands of the Military Police. _Ugh, the swine._ Just the thought of them sets your teeth on edge.

“(Y/N),” Erwin says now. “I imagine Hange was clear in her orders.”

“Yes, but—”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” he interrupts. His tone is clipped but his blue eyes are gentle when he looks at you.

You bow your head. “I understand.”

“However,” Erwin goes on, shuffling a pile of documents on his desk, “I can offer one anyway. I find your tenacity admirable.”

There it is — the twitch of his lips. You respond with a timid smile of your own.

“I intend to keep you out of any operation that involves little to no risk of Titan encounters. Or rather, pure Titan encounters. I want to capitalize on your unique qualities and avoid sacrificing you where your abilities would be wasted anyways.” He pauses and then says in a warm, insinuating tone, “You’re valuable, (Y/N).”

_Why am I blushing?_

“Sir,” you reply, ignoring your warm cheeks, “I understand. But can’t I at least ride out to Stohess? Even Captain Levi, with his injury, won’t be left behind.”

“My decision is final,” he replies. “You’ll rendezvous with Hange and the rest of your squad in Stohess if all goes according to plan. If not, she’ll send a messenger with further instruction.”

You bite back an exasperated sigh.

“Yes, sir,” you say unconvincingly.

Erwin shakes his head at you and returns to his documents. You don’t miss the small smirk he tries to conceal.

“You’re dismissed.”

You salute without conviction and exit the office.

* * *

The next morning the Survey Corps embark on their respective assignments. You spend your day pacing. Pacing the womens’ barracks, then pacing the yard, then pacing the mess hall. A few hours past noon you take a break from pacing to worry beneath the shade of a tree in the yard.

First you worry about Levi’s leg. Will he be able to defend himself if necessary? You didn’t miss the slight limp he was walking with when you caught sight of him this morning. Then you worry about where you and Levi stand. Was your visit to the infirmary a reconciliation? What is going on with him? You desperately want to remain on good terms. You want that old, easy companionship you once felt around him. His bleak attitude was bad back then, too, but you’re still coming to terms with the way he’s recently directed it so aggressively at you.

 _Surely there’s more to it than my rank being beneath his,_ you decide during your second worry session at dinnertime, reminding yourself of your thoughts at his bedside in the infirmary. But then what is it?

When you’ve worn yourself out agonizing over Levi you switch to Eren. Would Erwin really hand him over to the MPs just like that? Is the operation in Stohess his response? Is Eren strong enough to escape in his Titan form if necessary? What if they get Eren and come for you next?

You hardly have a chance to mull these questions over; it’s at this time that a messenger arrives for you. She’s a veteran of Hange’s squad, a girl a bit older than you named Nifa. Your heart sinks — surely this is bad news.

You struggle through Hange’s handwriting, so much more elaborate than the straightforward, angular marks of Levi’s hand. The thought that he may have also been new to reading and writing in adulthood briefly crosses your mind.

 _New rendezvous point_ , you manage to decipher with some effort. _Leave for Ehrmich immediately._

 _Thank the walls._ The sun is beginning to set and you’d been all but pulling your hair out in clumps. But you’ve successfully obeyed orders and sat out the entire day. Now, as per Hange’s new orders, you anxiously saddle your horse, don your forest green cloak, and exit the castle grounds at a gallop.

It takes almost an hour to arrive at the Wall Sina district even at breakneck speed. Your hair whips behind you, pulled away from your face by your red tie, and the brisk wind bites at the skin of your cheeks. As soon as you’re in sight of the Survey Corps’ temporary command center you’re stopped.

“(Y/N)!” 

It’s Moblit; he’s clearly been awaiting your arrival. “You’re urgently needed for a briefing!” he cries, grabbing your horse’s bridle while you’re still at a canter and trotting to keep up. “Hange needs all hands on deck and you’re the only one out of the loop.”

“Of course I am,” you spit bitterly, silently cursing Erwin despite his good intentions. You gracefully dismount in one fluid motion and toss the reins into Moblit’s outstretched hand.

“I’ll tend to the horse,” he tells you. “Hange’s just inside — through that door, there — with the soldiers who made it back from Stohess.”

“Back from Stohess?” you ask, still striding towards the building. “What about the 104th? What about Mike?”

“Undetermined!” Moblit calls to your retreating back.

 _Shit_.

You throw the heavy wooden door open with more force than is necessary and are met with fewer faces than you had hoped. Eren’s and Levi’s, however, are two of them. You shut your eyes and take a short, steadying breath.

“(Y/N), quickly,” Hange orders from where she’s stooped over a map in the back of the room.

You feel Levi’s eyes on you as you approach Hange on the side of the room opposite him. You shoot him a quizzical look and he quirks an eyebrow at you — a question. 

_He didn’t expect to see me here._

You shrug it off and give Hange your full attention.

“Squad Leader,” you greet her with a salute.

“Yeah, yeah,” she responds distractedly. “Eyes on the map.” You drop your gaze to the map detailing Wall Rose territory. “Stohess was a partial success,” Hange begins. “We got Annie Leonhart in custody, eh, sort of.”

It takes great effort to conceal a gasp. “That means she’s the Female Titan?”

“Yes, now don’t interrupt,” says Hange, although not unkindly. “Wall Rose was breached, many of your comrades from the 104th and Mike Squad are all likely to have been forced to engage. I have a strong hunch they’re here—“ she points at a spot on the map “—at the ruins of Castle Utgard. We need you if we’re going to retrieve the survivors. Our new friend Pastor Nick—” you glance in the direction Hange juts her head and see the wallist from your hearing who wanted you in MP custody, “—believes Christa Lenz holds integral information about the world within the walls.” Your mind races to keep up. _Christa? Really?_ “We should be relatively safe since it’s been some time since the sun set, but I’m not taking any chances.” Her brown eyes meet yours from behind her glasses. “Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply hurriedly. “But I need to tell you,” your heart is pounding erratically in your chest. _Annie is the Female Titan? Does that mean…?_ Could it be true that your gut feeling is not unfounded? “Squad Leader, I believe we should exercise extreme caution around three of the other recruits from the 104th.”

“What? Why?”

“I just…” you struggle to find the words to articulate your odd feelings about the group of recruits — Eren, Ymir, Annie, Bertholtd, Reiner —in a way that won’t have her writing you off as insane. “I can’t explain,” you gasp finally. “But please, trust me. Ymir, Bertolt, and Reiner. I sense something about them. The same thing I felt about Eren and Annie.”

Hange’s eyes dance in a way that suggests she’s not writing you off at all.

“We just received confirmation that Reiner, Bertolt, and Annie are from the same hometown,” she tells you. Your hand drifts to cover your open mouth in shock. “But I don’t know about—”

“What are you doing here?”

Neither you or Hange had noticed Levi drift over from where he was standing when you entered. Both of you tear your eyes away from the other to shoot perturbed looks at the Captain.

“What — what am I doing?” you stutter, flustered and aggravated at the interruption. Something in his eyes tells you whatever you two shared in the infirmary was not enough to patch up this new, tumultuous relationship you have. Still, you resolve to keep your cool. “I’m here under orders to rendezvous after the operation in Stohess. Captain.” You add his title as an afterthought.

Levi opens his mouth to speak but Hange takes the chance to call the soldiers to attention. Levi drops the subject and joins Hange to address the group. They briefly outline the plan to retrieve survivors, optimistically with Christa among them, from Castle Utgard. Levi, you’re surprised to see, addresses three of those present from your training regiment — Mikasa, Eren, Armin — individually. Then, he turns to you.

“(Y/N),” he says your name in a clipped, even tone, “you’re staying behind.”

Your mouth drops open for the second time that night. Before you can stand up for yourself, Hange comes to your defense.

“She’s already under my orders to take part in the rescue operation.”

You can tell by Hange’s uncharacteristically short tone that she’s feeling the pressure brought on by each wasted moment. Each tick of the clock could mean another dead soldier.

Levi is silent for a tense breath before he addresses you again, meeting your eyes from the back of the room. His mouth is set in a firm frown, his brow furrowed, almost as if he’s disappointed in...what? You? Himself?

“What can you really do out there, (Y/N)? You think you’re worth more than your comrades because of your ‘gift’?” he asks quietly. His questions are so critical, so instigating and so thoroughly unprovoked that all you can do is stare, open-mouthed. The rest of the soldiers have their attention fixed laser-sharp on you and the Captain. 

“Levi!” barks Hange. It’s rare to see her respond to Levi’s intimidation with anything other than a dismissive laugh. “What are you saying?”

He pointedly ignores her and keeps his gaze fixed on you.

“You’ve proven to me you’re just a savage whore from the Underground,” he says apathetically, clearly alluding to your stunt with the knife. “It’s better if you stay behind.”

All the air in the room seems to get sucked out. A pin dropping would sound like thunder. Armin, Mikasa, Eren, and Sasha are fervently glancing between you and Levi like they’re watching a volley.

You’re oblivious to it all. Your mind goes blank, your resolution to be patient with him slipping away alongside any other coherent thought. You snap, lunging at him with only one intention — you want to _hurt_ him. Scratch him, punch him in the gut, pull his hair out, anything to wipe that same _dumb,_ bored look off his face.

 _And because you’re hurt,_ your subconscious says dejectedly. _You’ve still always feared this is what he thinks of you, no matter who his mother was. Now you know._

Before you can reach him a pair of strong hands have grasped your arms, pinning them behind your back.

“(Y/N)!”

It’s Hange. You writhe in her grip and try to break free. When it becomes apparent you can’t — or maybe that you shouldn’t — you spit at the ground at Levi’s feet.

 _“Fuck_ you, Levi,” you snarl, venom dripping from each word.

“Is that allowed?” you hear Sasha mutter anxiously.

“Th-that’s definitely insubordination,” Armin quietly stutters in response.

Levi’s gaze shifts momentarily, his eyelids sinking as his gaze turns downcast. _Oh, so he has the decency to look apologetic? Too little too fucking late._

He looks back at you and your face that’s flushed and contorted with anger and hurt, your arms pinned behind your back as you wrestle against Hange’s hold. He sees, perhaps for the first time, a woman in place of the girls he once knew. A woman who will stand up to him, who has done a lot of growing without him. A woman who…perhaps doesn’t need him in the way she once did.

“(Y/N), outside!” shouts Hange, shoving you towards the door. She shoots Levi an unreadable look. “Everyone, move out!”

Levi turns away, unable to watch you go.

Back outside and thoroughly incensed, you storm off towards the lift, fuming silently. The others follow in silence, each one of them too shaken to look even at each other. Hot shame and anger colors your face red as you wonder what conclusions they could be drawing about you after hearing Levi’s insult. Overhead, dark clouds drift across the sky, allowing intermittent beams of moonlight to illuminate your murderous face.

When everyone’s ready and the horses are saddled, Hange leads the ragtag squad up the lift over the wall. Once on top, as the horses are lowered over the other side, Hange interrupts her conversation with Moblit to join you where you wait for the lift, removed from your comrades.

“(Y/N),” she says gently, standing at your side, “we’ll have to discuss disciplinary action once things settle.”

“Fine,” you say through clenched teeth. You can’t even bring yourself to toss in a “Squad Leader” for formalities’ sake.

“If it’s any consolation, I was also thrown off by what Levi said. He knows how to push limits, but this time he overstepped the mark,” she offers, eyeing your tense shoulders and flared nostrils. Her sympathy succeeds in calming you somewhat. You glance her way through the flickering torchlight and meet her eye. “You might know Levi the man but I don’t think you know Levi the Captain.”

You snort. _As if a split personality excuses what he said._

“He’s different around you,” Hange continues, now gazing forwards thoughtfully. “I think something clouds his judgement. I’ve always known him to make informed, calculated decisions in times of crisis.”

You bite back another snort. Surely that little display of his was not well-informed _or_ calculated.

Hange shakes her head, clearly disconcerted.

“He would never prioritize one life over the lives of many. But now...I’m not so sure.”

You don’t trust yourself to respond with anything that wouldn’t be considered blatant disrespect of Levi, who is still a commanding officer despite it all.

The clouds break and you peer up at the night sky. Innumerable stars twinkle against an endless shroud of black. The only sounds are of rustling leaves, the creaking of the lifts, and whirring cicadas. The air smells fresh and lush, like foliage.

Hurt, angry tears prick the backs of your eyes. Through your hurt, humiliation, and rage, you wonder how long it will take for the open night sky to make you think of anything other than Levi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up and down, back and forth, will they won't they? I don't know! Ah! What do you think??
> 
> Thanks for tuning in for another update xo


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com)
> 
> Friends, no one speak to me. I post this update with a heavy heart. To all my manga readers, can i get an F in the chat...
> 
> That's all I'll say T.T
> 
> Enjoy the chapter~

The moon is out in full when you reach Castle Utgard.

You can see the Titans from nearly a league off. The tower appears to be on the brink of collapse. Wordlessly, Hange leads the convoy to push your horses harder. When you’re only dozens of meters away it happens — the tower falls, you witness an abnormal Titan leap from the crumbling structure, and the sea of Titans swallow it. None of you even have time to consider how active the Titans are so late at night.

And then suddenly it all drops away. Your comrades’ shouts and Hange’s orders become distant, as if you’re hearing them from underwater, and then you can’t hear them at all. Any lingering feelings of resentment towards Levi you didn’t manage to shake during the ride trickle away, forgotten. A series of images flash by one by one, the scene before you changing in the blink of an eye.

_Castle Utgard standing tall and proud in the midday sun, surrounded by carefully manicured lawns, the stables and grounds alive with people._

_The largest kitchen you’ve ever seen, buzzing with cooks and attendants, steam rising from stovetops, a stockroom brimming with liquor, dry goods, canned salmon and herring. All the labels display an alphabet you’ve never seen. How is it you can decipher them?_

_The castle as it is_ — _or was_ — _just moments ago, a small figure flying from the highest precipice, a figure you know is Ymir, engulfed by a sudden crack of light, a Titan emerging in her place._

_A small but extravagant receiving hall, floor to ceiling doors made of heavy oak etched with intricate engravings, walls draped with tapestries, a high backed armchair at the head of the room._

_Perched on the regal seat, legs crossed, is you._

You snap back to the present. Around you, the other soldiers have pushed on, into the fray. Your horse nickers beneath you, tossing its mane.

_Walls, what the hell was that?_ You question, your entire body shaking like a leaf. You bite your lip, deep seated worry manifesting in your eyes. This place…this place you’ve never been to seems entirely too familiar. More than familiar, even. You seem to have a memory of each nook and cranny, but blurred, as if they belong to someone else.

But that’s not entirely right either, you realize, observing the ruins of the castle. The grounds have surely been in utter disrepair since before you were even born. What you saw of the castle in your mind’s eye could be nothing you or anyone living had any opportunity to lay eyes on.

And Ymir. How can you possibly know with such certainty that the abnormal Titan is her? Is it the buzzing swarm you sense from it? But you didn’t see her change, you’ve never once touched her skin. Couldn’t it be Bertolt or Reiner? No, you know for a fact it’s Ymir. But how?

There’s no time to consider it. Suppressing a shudder, you urge your horse forward, after the others.

* * *

The top of Wall Rose seems to kiss the sky in the gray light of early morning. Christa — or rather, Historia — Connie, Bertolt, Reiner, and a comatose Ymir have joined your forces after a narrow escape at Castle Utgard. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing up, your eyes are darting between the Titan shifters nervously, and beads of sweat have formed at your brow.

“(Y/N).”

It’s Armin, dismounting from his horse beside you at the foot of the wall.

“Hm?” you respond, distracted.

“What is it?”

You shake your head. Your eyes dart towards Bertolt and Reiner, both within earshot.

“Be on your guard, Armin,” is all you say.

Those of you equipped with 3DM gear get to safety on top of the wall, where you’re met by a vanguard force from the Garrison. You help rig a lift for those without gear, including Ymir and Reiner, whose arm was hurt in a struggle with a Titan.

He’s the last to make his way up. From where you stand you can see him talking with Eren and Bertolt, crouched and cradling his wounded arm. You want to shout at Eren to get away, they’re a threat, but instead you clench your jaw and make up your mind.

“Reiner,” you say as kindly as you can muster. You approach the trio and they all look up. “How’s your arm?”

You get down on one knee so you’re at eye level, your gear settling at your hips. You take in his close-cropped blond hair, hazel eyes, and broad shoulders. His face is one you know well from the years you spent training alongside him. _Could he be a traitor, like Annie?_ Your gaze shifts momentarily to the tall, brown-haired Bertolt. Always so quiet, never a leader and always a follower. Could he be an enemy as well? What about Ymir?

Reiner opens his mouth to speak and you take his hand.

It’s the same as the time during your early days in the Cadet Corp, in the training yard with Eren. Almost like you’re dreaming, all you can see before you is a Titan, heavily muscled, cropped hair, hardened skin.

And your worst fears are confirmed.

You drop Reiner’s hand to see him and Eren looking at you quizzically. Bertolt, however, appears to have reached an understanding.

“Alastair,” is all he says, not like he’s calling your name, rather like he’s offering an explanation.

Those familiar, icy fingers of fear creep up your spine. The mood between Bertolt and Reiner has shifted to something sinister. Eren has his eyes fixed on you, searching for some clarity. Oh, what you would do for some clarity.

Without another word you stand and walk off to find Hange.

“Squad Leader,” you hiss and grab her arm from behind. You’re interrupting her conversation with the Garrison Captain, Hannes, but you don’t care. “It’s true,” you say, hardly registering the way Mikasa hurries past. “They need to be restrained—”

Your words are swallowed by a crack of thunder and a gust of boiling hot steam. Hange, who is facing the source, is thrown onto her back by the force of it. You tumble forward in a nose dive off the wall, temporarily too shocked to do anything but freefall. You come to your senses almost halfway to the ground and sink your anchors into the wall, making your way back up to the top in a swift arc.

The colossal Titan, having formed only from the waist up, is atop the wall in the cloud of steam. Another crack of thunder and you know Eren is engaging the armored Titan below, on the other side of the wall. There’s a ringing in your ears. Your vision starts to swim out of focus. You know you’re descending into your dream-state, your battle-induced daze. You struggle to fight it off, falling hard on your knees and putting your hands, still holding the triggers of your gear, on either side of your head as if to stifle your instincts. You grind your teeth and feel yourself slipping further away.

“Argh!” you roar and stand precariously, wobbling on feet that feel foreign, feet that want to carry you towards the fight of their own accord. A vicious itch creeps up your arms as if they too want to obey a primal urge, a deep-rooted genetic coding your body surrenders to in the heat of battle. And then you know, with more confidence than you’ve known anything before, that the only way to satiate this hunger is to kill the thousands of buzzing mosquitos off. To slaughter the Titan shifters.

You don’t know how long you struggle like this. You want your wits about you but you want to survive; it’s a battle within yourself. You vaguely sense another gust of steam but you’re too far down the wall to feel more than a hot wind. More time goes by — you feel like you could faint.

_I need to be helping,_ you think desperately. _But this is not my fight. I can’t allow myself to risk my life against intelligent Titans. That’s not what Erwin would want._

When you come to you’re back on your knees. In your peripheral vision, the Colossal Titan is falling. You scamper on your hands and knees to the edge of the wall and watch its descent. Open-mouthed, it lands with a crash on top of Eren, who has Reiner pinned beneath him. You screw your eyes shut and grimace; the fight is lost. You feel awareness trickle back into you like a drink of clear, cool water.

“ _Agh!_ ,” you scream again, slamming your fists into the ground. You watch the armored Titan run off, Eren and Bertolt surely with him.

* * *

Several hours pass. The sun has inched to its peak as those of you who weren’t within range of the Colossal Titan’s attack tend to those who were. Hange and Mikasa are among the injured; every several minutes you nervously check Hange’s pulse with shaking fingers, seeking the fluttering beat like the wings of a small bird.

Forces from the Garrison and Military Police are gathering and awaiting orders. Word reaches you that there was never, in fact, any breach in Wall Rose. Something in the back of your mind nags at you, on and off all day, but you can’t say where the thought is coming from any better than you can explain the visions at Castle Utgard or the humming and whirring energy from the Titan shifters.

_You people are the Titans_ , the small voice says as you look at your comrades.

You shake your head. _You people?_ You question yourself. _We’re all the same._

The voice changes to something low and rumbling and very far off. _We’re not._

The image of a tall, animalistic Titan comes to mind, one with long-hanging arms and a body covered in fur. A Titan you’ve never laid eyes on before.

You shake your head again, clutching at the roots of your hair in dismay. _What is happening to me?_

In an effort to calm yourself you loosen your hair from its red tie and rake your fingers through the knots. You’re tying it up again when Erwin arrives with reinforcements from the Survey Corps.

You approach him without hesitation, disregarding the ranking officers clamoring for his attention.

“Erwin,” you say, making no effort to disguise your urgency. He senses the state you’re in and doesn’t correct your failure to address him using his title. Without thinking you take his right hand in both of yours. “Something is happening. Something we don’t understand. We’re missing something—”

“Kid, get out of here,” an MP official spits at you. “You’re in shock or something. It’s not news that we don’t have enough intel on the Titans.”

“(Y/N), continue,” Erwin orders, not once taking his stern blue eyes off you.

“We need to proceed with excessive caution. The Titan shifters are strong. There’s more of them. They have abilities we don’t know about.” You can’t rationalize even to yourself how you’re so sure of this. “Something is happening,” you say again, your grip on Erwin’s hand tightening. “We’re at a turning point.”

Erwin nods once and you drop his hand, unsure if he’ll heed your warning or not. But you’ve done what you could.

“(Y/N),” he says firmly and you lift your eyes again to meet his, “can you fight?”

You lift your chin, throw your shoulders back and take a steadying breath. “Yes, sir.”

He nods again. “Prepare for battle.”

You salute and he walks off, turning his attention to the other officers.

_I can fight._

_I_ need _to fight._

* * *

The charge moves out not long after.

To your great relief, Hange made enough of a recovery to inform Erwin that Reiner and Bertolt will likely be hiding out in the Forest of Giant Trees until it’s safe to move again at night. On that advice, he leads the rescue operation out and you find yourself riding alongside the other branches of the military for the first time.

_Kristoff,_ you think to yourself, your horse galloping hard beneath you, _did you ever feel this way? Did your own mind ever escape you? Or am I…alone?_

The sun has begun to set in colors you once only saw in your dreams. Around you, flare guns are going off; Eren or one of his captors have been spotted transforming in the Forest of Giant Trees. You push your horse harder and, upon seeing the right flank being forced in by Titans, you feel your consciousness begin to slip away from you.

_All right_ , you think in a final, purely coherent thought, _I’m here to fight_.

Erwin is ordering the force to avoid engagement; there is no time to waste if they want the rescue operation to be a success. You allow your horse to carry you in the formation, fighting the urge to engage Titans that break through and trample a squad of MPs underfoot. For now.

The armored Titan has escaped from the forest and Erwin is baiting the pure Titans to follow after him. He leads the charge up and around, cutting through the formation in a way that brings his horse within arms’ reach of yours. You tug the reins and follow close behind him. He raises a blade and cries out — you hardly understand what he shouts, you hardly see a thing, until a Titan snatches him up by the arm he holds up over his head.

Through your haze you picture Levi in training drills at the temporary HQ. His lithe, decisive movements, unique to him and so unlike the formal techniques you were taught under Shadis.

You allow your instincts to carry you through a fierce attack on the Titan that has Erwin between its teeth, using its own towering body to anchor your gear and slice through its nape.

_Is this what Levi would do?_

Briefly, you come to and wrench Erwin from the Titan’s swiftly decaying mouth, only dimly aware of the tear of his flesh as his right arm separates completely from his shoulder.

You hit the ground with him beneath you and tumble several meters. The wind is knocked out of you and you finally settle with your head on his chest. You scramble up and sheath your blades. Erwin’s eyes are wide and glassy but he’s very much alive. Between the sight before you and your battle high your head could just about explode from overstimulation.

“Erwin!” you cry, trembling hands flitting to his shoulder. Blood is gushing out in bursts, the strings of muscle are frayed and exposed around the white bone. You see it all in short episodes, repeatedly interrupted by spots of black.

To your dismay he attempts to sit up, breathing hard.

“My horse,” he says through gritted teeth.

“No!” you shout, putting your hands flat on his broad chest. “I’ll find someone to get you to safety.”

“(Y/N)!” he roars, “Get me on my horse and return to your place in the formation.” You open your mouth to argue but he doesn’t allow it. “That’s an order!”  
“Ugh!” you exclaim and, before he can say more, you wrench the length of red fabric from your hair, leaving your locks to hang loose in your face. “You need a tourniquet or you’ll bleed out before you can do any good,” you tell him firmly, frantically.

To your relief he doesn’t say another word about it. Admirably, he doesn’t utter a single sound even when you tighten the red tie around his stump with all the strength you can muster. His chest rises and falls with his heaving breaths and his left hand clutches your shoulder so hard you fear it might break under the pressure. But within moments it’s over. What felt like a lifetime on the battlefield was scarcely minutes.

You whistle through your teeth and your horse trots over, followed closely by Erwin’s. You watch, your face laced with concern, as Erwin stands and heaves himself back onto his horse. As you follow suit you vow that whatever turn this battle takes your priority is him. Before you can rationalize it, before you can consider the importance of Eren or the significance of the other ranks, you feel your awareness receding completely.

Much like the struggle for Trost, you lose count of the number of kills you make. The only thing you really register is Erwin’s attack on the armored Titan. Even the whirring of his gear stands out in stark contrast against the red-tinged clamor of battle surrounding you. When he collapses back on the ground, either his will or his physical strength abandoning him, you join him in the trampled grass and launch an attack on any Titan that comes this way.

“(Y/N)!” you hear his low, resonant voice cut through the din. 

Your attention wavers just long enough for you to crouch in the grass, momentarily still. The scene before you shifts into focus and you become aware of the aggressive rise and fall of your chest, the cramp in your fingers around the hilts of your gear, and the hot, wet Titan blood on your face and neck. Your long hair is stuck to your face and it’s a miracle you could see anything at all. Now, you swipe at it roughly with the back of your hand but you can still hardly see through it.

“Leave me — I am replaceable! Eren is our priority!” Erwin orders from a number of meters behind you.

“Commander, please!” you scream without facing him. You’re still wrestling with your curtain of tangled hair.

Frustration, adrenaline, and desperation spur you on and you drop the trigger from your left hand, gather your hair in your fist and swipe through it with your right blade. The length of hair flutters to the ground and a breeze kisses your neck in a way you’re not used to. Before Erwin can say anything else you’re off again, hardly a thing cutting through the red-tinged obscurity of your trance.

Finally, your body reaches its limit. You collapse on your knees beside Erwin, breathing hard. He’s crouched as well, looking woozier than you left him. Everything comes back into focus in a rush.

You look up, the short strands of hair around your face falling away easily. Titans are moving like nothing you’ve ever seen before, rushing in the direction of the armored Titan.

“Erwin,” you gasp. You sense him turn his face towards you and, eyes on the Titans’ charge, you lift a hand and gently rest it on his, intertwining your fingers in the grass. “Look.”

The sun is dipping beyond the horizon. The feel of the battle shifts.

“Retreat!” Erwin bellows at your side before leaning forwards, his eyes screwed shut.

Wordlessly, you whistle for the horses and help him heave himself up.

This battle is won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's rather lacking in the Levi department but I hope you liked it anyway!
> 
> Let me know what you think ^.^


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com)

You hurry up the stairs from the mess hall, a tray of food balanced on your left forearm and your right hand gliding across the railing.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

You look up and see Connie descending the stairs. He seems more troubled than you’re used to seeing him.

“Connie, hi,” you greet him. “Everything all right?”

He shrugs and passes by, not stopping for small talk.

“Guess you haven’t had a chance to read the report yet,” he says over his shoulder. “Could be better. Glad to see you survived solitary.”

You sneer. Hange had decided solitary confinement was a fitting punishment for your blatant insubordination back in Ehrmich. It was just, you reasoned with yourself, but miserable. The windowless room was dark and dank, reminding you painfully of your life in the Underground. Fortunately, Hange’s punishment was strict but fair and you weren’t stuck in the decrepit conditions for nearly as long as, say, Levi would have sentenced you to. You fight a sneer off your face at the thought of him.

“Ha,” you reply to Connie humorlessly, continuing up the stairs. “Me too.”

At the top, down the hall from your destination, you run into Hange and the Commander of the Garrison, Dot Pixis. You recognize him only vaguely as one of the officers at your hearing.

“Ah!” you gasp, the tray wobbling. “Sirs,” you say politely, placing your right fist over your heart as best you can without jostling the food.

“At ease, Private,” says the Commander kindly. His mustache bristles as he smiles. “It’s a pleasure to see you now that you’re out of chains.”

You right the tray and shift the bowl of stew so the weight is more evenly distributed. “Nice to see you too, sir, as a free woman.”

“I was satisfied to hear how valuable you proved to be following the recent battle against the Titan shifters. It made many of the higher ups confident in your involvement with the Corps.”

“That’s kind of you,” you tell him, noticing the twinkle in his eye. It makes you think that, perhaps, you’ve had an ally in high places.

“(Y/N),” Hange chimes in inquisitively, “I thought you’d be out enjoying the grounds now that you’re out of confinement.”

“Yes,” you say, buying time as you think of what to say. After a beat of quiet you decide on the truth. “I volunteered to attend Commander Erwin. I hear he’s doing a bit better and I…hoped to see for myself.”

Hange raises an eyebrow and Pixis tilts his head.

“Sounds fitting,” says Pixis knowingly. “I imagine a thank you is in order. From what I gather he’d be short more than an arm if it weren’t for you.”

“Well…” you trail off, looking at Hange. She nods, encouraging you. “I suppose that may be true, sir,” you finish lamely.

To your surprise, Pixis laughs boisterously. “Oh, what I would do to owe my life to a beautiful young woman,” he says impishly. Hange smirks and your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “And,” Pixis continues, “have her hand-deliver my meals in the aftermath. Very well, (Y/N), we won’t keep you any longer.”

You nod respectfully as he brushes by you to head downstairs.

“Report to my office when you’re finished up here,” Hange tells you. “I’ll get you a copy of the report on the mission. There’s a lot you need to know.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you respond, already heading down the hall. You’ve started to worry the food will be cold by the time it can be eaten.

You make it to the room Erwin occupies without further interruption. Just as you raise your right hand to knock, however, the door swings open of its own accord.

Standing behind it, a hand on the doorknob, is Levi.

You can’t control the way your jaw clenches and your eyes narrow. “Captain,” you hiss.

His eyebrows rise an inch and his lips part slightly, cluing you in to his surprise at your arrival. He recovers himself quickly and looks at you with tired eyes, his expression settling back into its usual impassive mask. Something has upset him, you can tell, but you’re in no mood to ask after his well-being like you had with Connie.

“What the hell are you doing up here?” he demands.

“What does it look like? Captain,” you add, in case Erwin is listening to the exchange. You look pointedly at the tray of food you carry. “I’m on duty attending to the Commander.”

Levi scoffs and his lips purse in a displeased line. “Well then, don’t let me interfere.”

“You’re too kind, sir” you reply menacingly.

He makes a point of stepping past you through the doorframe so his shoulder brushes yours, jostling the bowl of stew. You sigh heavily as a single drop spills onto the tray and, stepping into the room, kick the door shut with your foot more forcefully than the situation calls for.

“(Y/N),” Erwin greets you, “what a pleasant surprise.”

You smile warmly, making a valiant attempt to banish Levi from your mind. You survey the room, taking in the flood of natural light spilling through the window and the sparse furnishing consisting of a bed, nightstand, and a few chairs placed haphazardly about as if they had just been occupied. You realize that Connie, Hange, and Pixis must have come from here as well. 

You set the food on the nightstand and turn your attention to Erwin, looking haggard and exhausted in the bed but at least sitting upright. Concern gnaws at you as you take in his sallow skin and unshaven face. Still, you have to admit that he is a handsome man. You resist the urge to brush aside the hair hanging loose on his forehead, a stark contrast to the neat style he usually keeps it in.

“Commander,” you say, your distress over his appearance clear on your face.

Without realizing what you’re doing you reach up and brush your knuckles over the stubble on the left side of his jaw. He shifts his gaze to meet yours and catches your wrist in his hand.

“Private,” he says, lowering your hand from his face, “your concern is appreciated but unnecessary. I’m expected to make a full recovery.”

You blush furiously and gently tug your wrist from his grip.

“Sir,” you say in lieu of an apology, clumsily saluting as you should have the moment the tray was set down.

Erwin chuckles quietly and you see a shimmer in his eyes, relaxing you somewhat.

“Sit down,” he tells you gently.

You nod and settle in one of the chairs at his bedside, the one facing the window so the sunlight kisses your features.

Erwin reaches for the tray with his remaining hand and picks up the mug of tea. As he does so, his open button-up falls from his left shoulder. Thinking nothing of it, you lean forward and tug it back in place for him, your fingers brushing the thin fabric of his undershirt. Erwin meets your eye again and smiles as he takes a sip from the mug of tea.

“Levi feels possessive of you,” he says, making it clear to you he was indeed listening to your brief spat at the entrance to his room.

This is pretty much the last thing you expected him to say in response, however. All you can do is snort.

“Does that surprise you?” he asks, genuine curiosity apparent in his tone.

“With the sort of treatment I’ve received from him since my enlistment? Yes, I suppose ‘surprise’ is one word you could use for it,” you respond, unable to conceal your contempt.

“Hm,” Erwin hums. “One of the first items in Hange’s report was your blatant disregard for the chain of command in Ehrmich.”

You sigh and shake your head. “I won’t deny that I perhaps reacted too…strongly.”

He chuckles again. “Something tells me you don’t believe you were the one in the wrong.”

Your jaw clenches again. “I understand that insubordination is wrong, sir,” you tell him, “but was Captain Levi in the right, flagrantly degrading me in front of my comrades? I mean, he used personal information he learned about me… before…and threw it in my face. I just—” you cut yourself off and press your middle fingers against your temples, exasperated. “I haven’t even come up with a logical explanation for why he did it.”

“I believe that can be explained by my original point,” Erwin tells you, sipping again at his tea.

“Possessiveness?” you ask, incredulous.

“Of a sort,” Erwin replies. “I think it was a last ditch effort to keep you off the mission. To provoke you far enough that Hange had no choice but to leave you behind as a form of punishment.”

“Ugh,” you breathe, your hands balling into fists. “He had no right.”

“Perhaps,” says Erwin knowingly, “but military law says, as your superior, he did.” 

You choose to grind your teeth in agitation instead of replying.

“And,” Erwin continues, studying your face for your reaction, “it has become increasingly apparent to me that Levi feels personally responsible for you. Even after all this time.”

Your teeth halt their self-destructive ministrations and your eyes widen. Erwin, perhaps mercifully, doesn’t give you the chance to dwell on what he’s just told you.

“Speaking of which,” he says lightly, “Some would consider your unyielding efforts at protecting me on the field an act of insubordination, considering that I ordered you to leave me and protect Eren.”

He rolls his right shoulder, wincing slightly. You see the clean white bandages beneath his shirt and feel a sharp pang of remorse. Couldn’t you have done more? Shouldn’t you have anticipated the attack?

“Sir,” you say, eyes finding his face again, “I would argue that I was defending my own life as much as yours. Eren was a ways off. How do you know I wasn’t trying to reach him?”

Erwin’s lip twitches and you know you’re in no danger of further discipline.

“I’ve already made up my mind that that’s exactly what we’ll chalk it up to, (Y/N).”

“Hm,” you smile. Your gaze falls on the untouched food. “Commander, can I help you with your meal?”

He shakes his head. “I’m well enough at least to feed myself.” 

“I’m glad to see you well, Commander,” you tell him earnestly, wondering at this feeling of attachment you’ve slowly but surely developed over the years.

“Thank you,” he says, and you suspect he’s thanking you for much more than the now-cold stew.

You stand and salute (with much more dignity than before) then turn to leave the room.

“(Y/N),” he calls softly to your retreating figure. You step back to face the bed. Erwin sets the teacup on the tray, his face now deadly serious. “Assure me of your loyalty,” he says resolutely. “Would you obey anything I ordered of you?”

His eyes are hard and his visage is commanding, regardless of his condition.

“Erwin,” you say without a hint of hesitation, “I would follow you to my death.” 

He nods again and, sensing you’re dismissed, you see yourself out.

You pull the door shut, turning his words over in your mind.  _ Assure me of your loyalty.  _ You would remain unquestioningly loyal to Erwin through anything, you realize then, and it can be traced directly back to that night in Levi’s kitchen.

_ He could have turned me in. He could have handed me over to the same monsters who ruined Kristoff, but he believed I could see this through.  _ You shake your head.  _ Or maybe he took a gamble, placing his bets on me. _

You look up to see Levi leaning against the wall down the hall.

Your pensive mien turns defiant as you make your way towards the stairs without any intention of acknowledging the Captain. Of course, he would never make things so easy for you.

“After all the times I told you to cut your hair it was Erwin who finally got you to do it?” he leers.

You scoff and roll your eyes, stopping before him so your short locks, now ending at your throat, swish around. “Maybe if  _ you _ had been maimed by a Titan I would have considered it, Captain.”

Levi regards you, apathetic, and you note how good he looks in a neatly pressed black jacket, much like the one he gave you the night you met, and his damn stupid cravat. A lock of raven hair is resting against his forehead just so.

“I’ve never considered you a whore,” he says, breaking you from your reverie. Your eyes snap to his but he dodges contact, furrowing his brow and looking just over your shoulder.

You can’t help but wince at the word, no matter how far from that tavern you’ve come.

“Is that supposed to be an apology?” you say shrilly, already on the brink of losing your composure.

“No,” he sighs in a way that makes you think he’s frustrated with his own ineloquence. “I’m not sorry.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“I don’t regret what I said.”

You flounder for the words to articulate your sheer disbelief at what he’s telling you. “Well then fuck you again, Levi,” you exclaim, “because you  _ should _ feel sorry for degrading me like that in front of my comrades. I always had the feeling that’s what you think of me, in spite of—”

“That’s not what I think of you.”

“Then why—”

“It was an attempt to keep you from rushing off to die valiantly in battle,” he tells you as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, his eyes finally meeting yours with a look that says,  _ what are you, stupid? _ “I should have known it would only make you even more determined.”

You feel your mouth opening and closing as you clamor for words to express this feeling of… relief? Dismay? Affection?  _ Guess Erwin was right _ , you think bashfully, feeling as stupid as Levi’s look suggested.

Finally, you get something out. “All I want from you is some respect,” you say, exasperated. “Is that too much to ask? I’m not the lonely, broken girl you rescued from a life of poverty. I did a lot of growing in the time we were apart.” You’re surprised to see the way his eyes soften at your words. “Take it or leave it, Levi,” you finish quietly.

“Tsk,” he clicks his tongue. “You’ve always been more trouble than you’re worth.”

A gust of wind rattles the windowpanes and golden evening light pools into the hallway, catching in Levi’s raven hair. 

“Well,” you say finally, “you’re the one who came looking for trouble.”

Can you really allow yourself to forgive him so easily, you wonder as your lips form a slight smirk? Not that he’s apologizing, that he’s made perfectly clear. You think back to the numerous ways he’s hurt you. No matter what his motivations may have been, whether they were misguided attempts to protect you or whatever else, there is no denying that he’s repeatedly left your pride wounded and your feelings confused.

But here, now, Levi blinks at you slowly, his mouth threatening to turn up at the corners ever so slightly. It’s an expression you know well, a look that sends you back in time to the afternoons spent at the kitchen table, Levi sat at your side, watching you shape words and letters on a page under his careful guidance.

And then you find yourself fighting a losing battle against the smile that wants to rise to your lips. The answer becomes clear. Of course, of course forgiveness is well within reach. There’s scarcely a thing Levi could do that would erase all you’ve been through.

Perhaps now, if only somewhat, things have shifted closer to the way they were before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter concludes Part Two! Thank you all for sticking around this long. We have ten chapters and an epilogue to go; I think things will really start falling into place from here on out~!
> 
> Anything you want to see from Part Three? As always, I have a plan, but I'm more than glad to hear your thoughts and predictions :)
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING
> 
> xoxo catherine


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The caged bird sings  
>  with a fearful trill   
> of things unknown   
> but longed for still   
> and his tune is heard   
> on the distant hill   
> for the caged bird   
> sings of freedom._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://catherineabandon.tumblr.com)
> 
> Welcome to Part Three, friends. Thank you for sticking with me till now~
> 
> I hope you enjoy xoxo

|| Part Three ||

Time presses on.

While tensions between you and Levi seemed to be dissipating following the recent battle, your respective duties now appear intent on keeping you apart.

For several weeks you divide your time between HQ, where you work closely under Erwin to investigate Historia and the noble Reiss family of the northern Wall Sina territories, and the remote cottage where Hange is running experiments with Eren. While Squad Levi is posted at the cottage, there never seems to be a chance to catch a moment alone with the Captain, to gauge whether you have truly managed to finally reach the stoic, overbearing soldier with your pleas for respect.

No, there’s no chances at all. You find much of your time spent on errands for either your Commander or Squad Leader, sometimes relaying messages between them, other times relaying messages to Levi (always in the presence of his squad, your young friends from the 104th).

It is during this time when the seeds of Hange’s plan take root. When you aren’t playing messenger she begins sending you in plainclothes to the capital, Mitras, to stake out the Military Police headquarters and, with time, the royal palace. The Plan is simple: disguised as a barmaid, or perhaps just a lost civilian, or maybe even an escort, you begin inching your way closer to the noblemen who report directly to the Crown and the high-ranking officers in the Military Police.

You find you’re remarkably good at the task, despite resisting at first; Hange appointed you to the duty with great flourish and excitement, entirely unaware of your experience in the Underground where seducing disgusting men wasn’t just an act, it was your livelihood. However it didn’t take long for you to see the value in her plan and acknowledge that you would be much better than, say, Nifa, your spritely comrade and the only other woman directly under Hange’s command.

In fact, it was Erwin who, likely without realizing, offered the perspective you needed to make up your mind.

“You’re a soldier, (Y/N), not a barmaid. That won’t change whether you’re in uniform or in disguise,” he had told you, regarding you knowingly from beneath his strong brows.

And with that, for the first time since you left the Underground, you begin lining your eyes with kohl, rubbing rouge into your cheeks and staining your lips a bright cherry red. You pull out the clothes you wore when you lived with Levi, then find, after several nights in the capital, that sleazy men are more susceptible to the attentions of sleazy women, and dig to the bottom of your belongings for the plain, worn, and somewhat more revealing dresses you would wear waitressing at the tavern.

It frightens you, how easily you fall back into the role. It’s alarming how easy you find it to appeal to first the Squad Leaders, then the Captains, then the low-ranking noblemen. It’s almost too easy to imagine your performance will determine whether you make enough money to eat the next day. 

And so you sit on barstools with your skirts hiked up a bit too high, you lean in just a bit too close to brush their shoulders with yours, and you hint just a bit too provocatively that you would like these men to pay for your drinks.

In this fashion you learn from Squad Leader Jaime that it’s Squad Leader Fynn who sometimes drinks with Captain Elias. And so the next night you wander into the tavern Squad Leader Fynn drinks at, asking simply for directions home — you’re new to the neighborhood, see. So after a few tankards of ale and some batting of your eyelashes, Squad Leader Fynn tells you that while he prefers this particular tavern, Captain Elias’ watering hole of choice is in the eastern part of town. And on the third night, your hair clipped back to exaggerate your cheekbones, your breasts adjusted with your cleavage on display, you head east and find Captain Elias more than happy to talk to a girl he thinks will bed him for coin. Captain Elias is so revolting, so pompous and conceited, that at the end of the night you pocket his money before giving him the slip, just because you can. And, you admit later, because he reminds you in such striking detail of your filthiest patrons in the Underground, unicorn crest or not.

Then, just when you’re getting close, just when all your efforts spent cozying up to the disgusting pigs who may as well have each played a hand in Kristoff’s murder are about to pay off, the tensions rising between the Survey Corps and the Military Police reach a boiling point.

Hange intercepts you the moment you step from the carriage hired to carry you into Mitras and back to Trost. She stands at the entrance to the barracks in slippers, a robe, and her Survey Corps jacket, nervously adjusting her glasses and talking animatedly to Moblit, who is at least fully dressed.

“(Y/N)!” she calls as you exit the carriage, clued into your arrival by a pointed look from Moblit, “tell me you got to Nile tonight.”

You hear the clatter of the hooves and the creak of wheels behind you as your carriage departs.

“No,” you say sourly. The thought of the MP Commander and his stupid little mustache and scraggly little beard and his dispicable proposal at your military tribunal causes a terrible taste to rise in your mouth. You spit a wad of phlegm into the gutter and Moblit’s eyebrows shoot up, likely at the contradiction of the filthy action against your prettily made up face and feminine appearance. You ignore him and pull off the hood of your plain gray cloak, no longer feeling the need to conceal your features out on the street. “That fucking minor lord, the one with lands just north of Ehrmich, was all shitty talk and nothing more. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s never even met Nile, let alone the King.”

“Hm,” hums Hange, part thoughtful, part distracted, “you’re beginning to talk like Levi, you know.”

“Ha,” you guffaw, “if I were talking like Levi I’d tell you how constipated you look right now. What’s going on?” you ask genuinely, picking up on Hange’s unease. “Were you two waiting for me?”

“Yes,” nods Hange, her face grim. “Write up your report immediately and leave it with Nifa. She’ll pass it off to Erwin when she reports to him at HQ with my message.” You note she looks not only anxious but somewhat disturbed; something troubled lingers in her light brown eyes. “We need to depart at first light to rendezvouse with Squad Levi. Be ready in an hour.”

“Ugh,” you groan, falling into step with Hange and Moblit as they turn to head inside. “Is it so late already?”

“Unfortunately so,” Hange replies. “Once we meet with Levi and the others you can have the evening to recuperate. I know you must be exhausted.”

“Thank you, Squad Leader,” you respond grimly, unable to shake the bitterness that’s been festering since you first went undercover. “So what happened? Why the sudden departure?”

“Pastor Nick was murdered,” Moblit reveals. 

Your eyes dart to Hange, disbelieving. Her mouth is set in a hard line.

“What?” you gasp. “Here? At the barracks?”

“Yes,” Moblit answers. “We have reason to believe the Interior Police are responsible”

You gape, your bubbling bitterness shifting to pure revulsion and then rage.

“One hour!” Hange reaffirms, turning down the hall to her quarters.

“I’ll walk you upstairs,” Moblit offers, frowning after her.

You grunt in acknowledgement, picturing the wallist who, though he opposed your freedom at your hearing, eventually proved to be a valuable resource to the Survey Corps. You shake your head and Nick’s face morphs into Kristoff’s.  _ Another death at the hands of the Interior Police. _

“You know,” Moblit says, his gaze trained straight ahead, “Erwin and Hange are in agreement that if this mission is too strenuous for you they’ll find an alternate course of action.” He pauses before continuing, his frown deeply set. “Even though Hange gets carried away with her ideas, she’s not devoid of compassion. She just needs some reminding.”

You sigh deeply as you and Moblit climb the stairs.

“I know that,” you tell him. “And you know I have nothing but respect for Hange. I’m proud to serve under her command.” You realize as you speak how firmly you believe this. “And I trust her  _ plan _ .” You say the word with some disdain. “What I’m struggling with is more of a…personal thing,” you admit vaguely.

“Then that makes it all the more valiant,” he says as you reach the door to the room you’ve been sharing with Nifa.

You look up at him and your eyes soften. “I appreciate that, Moblit. And if it means anything coming from me, I understand why Hange relies on you for so much. It’s a pleasure for me to serve under you as well.”

He smiles gently and, to your surprise, salutes you. You square your stance and salute back.

As Moblit descends the staircase you push the bedroom door open. Your eyes skim over the bunk beds, twin wardrobes and desks in the dark room as you sigh again, unfastening the clasp at your throat to pull the cloak from your shoulders. Nifa’s knapsack is packed and her bunk is stripped of bedding, leading you to believe she’s turning in the linens or perhaps using the bathroom. You roll your shoulders, hearing them pop with the movement, and try and fail to ease some of the tension from your tired muscles. You sit heavily at your desk and allow yourself the briefest moment to rest your head in your hands.

Everything about this mission, from the makeup and corsets to the long, hard nights, is reminiscent of your days waitressing in the Underground. The only difference is the pigs are dressed in military uniforms and silk instead of patched and worn hand-me-downs.

You lift your head and light the oil lamp, then pick up your hand mirror to peer at your reflection. There are dark shadows under your eyes and your lipstick has worn off enough to leave your mouth looking sallow and dry instead of lush and plump.  _ Walls, _ you think, glaring at your reflection in the mirror,  _ it’s a miracle I get a thing out of those men by the end of the night. _

You place the mirror face down on the desktop, somehow reminded of your last night at the tavern in the Underground, the night Levi really came into your life. What was his first impression of you? You can imagine you looked much the same as you do now; tired and worn out, especially by the time you sat down to accept his… offer. Did he remember you as a child well enough to see how you’d grown? Was he disgusted by you? Or simply relieved to have found you, not thinking about your appearance at all?

You scoff at the thought. Levi might be a unique man, but he’s a man all the same. And no man is impervious to a woman’s looks, this you know from years of experience.

You shake your head and run your hands roughly through your hair, already grown out the few inches needed for it to brush your shoulders. Out the window, the sky is steadily turning gray with the promise of morning light. You need to pack your things and have this report ready for Nifa before it’s time to leave.

Raking your hands through your hair one last time, you ready a sheet of paper and get to work.

* * *

The golden evening sun warms your upturned face and a light breeze lifts your hair. Your eyes are shut, your lashes casting delicate shadows across your skin.

“(Y/N),” says Hange. You crack your eyes open to see her in the doorway to the cottage, a hand raised to shield her eyes from the sun you were just basking in. “If your horse is untacked come meet us in the main room.”

You nod and make your way to the door, stepping across the threshold after her.

The ride from Trost was smooth enough, but your sleepless night has begun to catch up with you; your eyes feel heavy and there’s a throbbing pain forming at your temple. You reach up to rub your eyes and then let them fall back to your sides with a huff — while there was time to change into more modest clothes (thank the walls), you hadn’t made it to the sink to scrub the black kohl away.

The cottage’s floorboards creak beneath your boots as you make your way to the main room. Standing in the doorway, you sweep the room and find you’re the last one to arrive. Squad Hange, save Nifa, are seated around a tea table beside the fireplace. The newly formed Squad Levi are at the dining table with Levi at the head.

His eyes find yours and the slightest hint of worry creeps in as he scrutinizes your disheveled appearance. You quickly look away, avoiding his unspoken question, and stride to the back of the room to join your squad.

You find your focus waning from the moment Hange opens her mouth to address the group. It takes immense effort just to stay awake, let alone channel your attention into the conversation around you. Yet you manage to get the gist — much of it you already know. Tensions are high between the Survey Corps and the Military Police; Pastor Nick’s murder is a clear indicator that the Survey Corps have uncovered too much.

When Nifa comes in with a message for Levi you snap back to attention. His shift in demeanor as he reads Erwin’s note, from cool and calculating to stony and alert, sets you on edge.

“Everyone out. We leave now,” he says firmly, rising from his chair. “Leave no trace we were here.”

Without delay each soldier stands and hurries to clear teacups or collect their things. You feel Levi’s piercing stare fall on you once again before he gives up on catching your eye and leaves the room. You keep your eyes downcast, adjusting the cloak you never removed — the same plain gray one, devoid of the wings of freedom — and head straight outside to your horses.

_ So much for taking the evening to rest _ .

You’re tugging at the final strap of your mare’s saddle when a strong hand grips your shoulder. You start ever so slightly and then your eyes flutter shut; you don’t need to look to know it’s Levi.

“(Y/N),” he says simply.

Sighing, you turn to face him, feeling the dull burn of shame in your belly, though you can’t exactly say why.

“You look like shit.”

_ Right. That’s why. _

“Wow, thank you, Captain,” you say, unable to keep the sarcasm out of your voice. You frown at him as he lifts the saddle onto his horse’s back where it’s tethered beside yours. Your headache is throbbing painfully.

He keeps his eyes trained on the saddle as you study the way his lithe fingers fasten each buckle.

“I opposed Hange’s shitty plan the moment I caught wind of it,” he tells you.

Without seeing his face you struggle to discern what he’s thinking.

“I’m sure you did,” you say blankly.

He shoots you a sharp look, his hands freezing on the bridle; you were no more successful keeping the resentment out of your tone than you were the sarcasm.

“That’s not what I meant,” says Levi, his hands resuming their task. “I knew you would despise the assignment.”

You feel a twinge of guilt for jumping to conclusions. More than that, however, you feel relief that the Captain has respected you enough to decide for yourself, without his involvement, whether or not to accept the mission. And somewhere deeper, beneath all that, a flutter of affection. Levi would, of course, see the parallels between your recent duties and the unsavory life you left behind.

“I do,” you reply in a small voice, running your fingers through your horse’s mane. A lump rises in your throat and you swallow it down thickly, chalking it up to exhaustion.

You can feel that Levi has turned his full attention to you but you still stubbornly refuse to look at him, instead focusing on the pain in your head and the emotion you’re fighting to stifle.

“(Y/N),” says Levi.

Your name alone, said in that way, speaks volumes. You hear around his typical hard, bleak inflection to the way he laces the word with concern.

You bite your lip and feel your brow furrow but, finally, raise your eyes to Levi’s steely gray ones.

He studies your black-lined eyes and the tired shadows beneath them, not missing the way they shimmer with unshed tears. You watch his mouth set, his eyes shining with anger, and you read on his face that possessiveness Erwin saw in him long ago.

“Call it off,” he orders, and you wonder what lengths he would have gone to to get you off the mission before that day outside Erwin’s sickroom.

You’re aware that despite his commanding tone that this is over even his head. Hange and Erwin have left the choice entirely up to you but, walls, do you want nothing more than to do exactly as he asks. You want to break down right here, giving in to your exhaustion and the sense of self-loathing borne of this demeaning assignment. The lump in your throat thickens, your tears threaten to spill. Is this what it means to be a soldier? Have you done nothing but come full circle, back to being a whore from the Underground?

More than anything, you want Levi to take you in his arms and offer you words of comfort in that short, clipped way only he can. That way that’s not so warm at all, but is so completely and totally  _ him _ that it would ease your worries in a second.

But that is not the way things are. So you breathe deeply, shakily, as Levi pins you where you stand with that pointed gaze, not looking away even when Hange comes out shouting to hurry, nor when his squad rushes out behind her. He simply watches you as you fight to stop your lower lip from trembling and get your emotions in check.

Several moments pass before your jaw sets and you meet his eyes with your own hard look.

“I’m doing what needs to be done. Just as I always have. Just as I always will.”

* * *

A league or so off the altitude is high enough to observe from above as the Military Police raid the cottage.

No one speaks for several moments, the air thick with trepidation. Connie is the first to break the silence, his voice uncertain as he wonders aloud what would have happened if you had all stayed.

You watch the MPs kick open the door and look through the windows, thrown almost into a trance by the flickering flames of their torches. Levi is saying that there is a freeze on all Survey Corps activity outside the wall. You shut your eyes, blocking out the torches, the MPs, and everything else.

“They’re telling us to hand over Eren and Historia,” Levi says.

_ No. _

“By the way, right after he gave me the message,” Nifa is telling Levi, referring to Erwin, “the Military Police came for him.”

“No!” you cry, whirling around to look at her.

Levi briefly glances your way as Hange echoes your concerns.

_ What has it all been for?  _ You question yourself, the futility of your assignment seeming to engulf you suddenly. Levi and Hange are discussing the nameless, faceless enemy behind the MPs but you hardly hear. Your hands rake through your hair.  _ Has it been for nothing? How many nights did I go out, for how many weeks now, and I don’t have a single name, a single  _ lead  _ even? _

“(Y/N),” Hange says, breaking your reverie, “you’re with me and Moblit. We’re going after Erwin.”

You look up to see them already mounting their horses. Fighting to shake the hollowness that seems to be filling you, you briskly nod your head and mount your mare, galloping after them.

When you cast a single, fleeting look back, you see Levi’s sharp eyes are following you as you go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I would like it to go down on record that I actually have quite the soft spot for Nile. Our sweet protagonist, however, clearly does not).


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, welcome back ^.^
> 
> I know you guys have been commenting saying you want more Levi/Reader interaction and let me just say, I SEE you and I HEAR you, but I have some p l o t I really need to get out of my system. Please bear with me! I hope it’s worth it. I’m just so addicted to this character I want her BUILT UP.
> 
> Enjoy xx

By the time you reach the capital night has fallen once again.

Hange arranges a private room for you at the barracks, much to your relief, and you excuse yourself quickly without so much as a goodnight to her and Moblit.

Grateful to finally have the chance to scrub the makeup from your face, you head straight to the showers. After stripping down, discarding your clothes on the tile floor, you stand naked beneath a steady stream of hot water and resist the urge to cry.

_ You’re exhausted,  _ you tell yourself,  _ nothing more. _

As you wash your hair, your fingernails moving in methodic circles against your scalp, you picture Levi’s face when he first laid eyes on you in the cottage.

Hot tears threaten to spill and you’re overwhelmed with the feeling that you’ve not only let yourself down, but Levi as well.

_ Has he taken it as a personal affront that, after all he did for me, I’ve walked straight back into a life suited only for a rat from the Underground? _

You shut the water off angrily and reach for your towel. Then it’s Kristoff’s face that comes to mind as you pat yourself dry.

_ This isn’t what he wanted from me. _

_ You’re too smart for this garbage heap,  _ he used to tell you.

Your anger rises when you suddenly picture, quite ridiculously, your male counterparts being asked to do your assignment; Jean in a corset and red lipstick, then Eren patting rouge onto his cheeks, then Armin pinning his hair up (that one, you have to admit, is less absurd when you take into account his child-like, feminine features).

A sardonic laugh bubbles to your lips but you repress it. Truly, there’s nothing funny about it at all. You could convince yourself that using your sexuality as a weapon is a way to reclaim it. But really, to you, it feels more like it's being taken advantage of. A man would never be put in the position you’re in.

Back in your room, you drape your towel over the back of the desk chair and dress quickly into your nightshift. You perch on the edge of the bed and embark on the nightly ritual of brushing your hair. The task takes half the time it used to, since you cut most of it off, and soon enough you’ve collapsed on the mattress with no regard for your wet head.

You’re asleep almost instantly.

* * *

_ Bang, bang, bang. _

“(Y/N)! (Y/N), if you don’t wake up I’m coming in!”

You groan as you’re pulled from the recesses of a deep, dreamless sleep. You open your eyes and squint against the sunlight shining through the window. It’s the light of late morning; you must have slept for at least eight hours. Groggily, you kick off your sheets and make your way to the door.

It’s Hange.

“You look well rested,” she says, noting what must be a nest of hair, dried pressed between your head and the pillow.

You yawn and rub your eyes before remembering protocol and saluting.

“I feel it, yeah,” you tell her, stepping aside so she can enter the room. “Thanks for getting me private quarters.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t mention it. I hardly have time to talk — Moblit and I are heading out again.” You realize she’s dressed in riding pants and a plain black cloak. “I have news from Erwin.”

“Isn’t he in custody?” you ask, quickly becoming less groggy and more alert.

“Yes, he is,” says Hange, studying you from behind her smudged glasses, “but they have no reason yet to restrict his visitors so thoroughly that his ranking officers can’t meet with him. Speaking of which, my news.”

You stifle the flutter of nerves in your stomach.  _ Is it Squad Levi? Has something happened already? _

“You’re being promoted. Congratulations.”

“ _ What _ ?” you exclaim.

Hange nods eagerly. “Yes, yes. You’ve been integral to the operations here in the capital—”

“I haven’t uncovered a single thing,” you interrupt.

“You’ve done more than you know, (Y/N),” she tells you. “The peace of mind Erwin and I have been awarded knowing your eyes and ears are out there for us is priceless. Erwin’s appointed you his Executive Officer.”

You gape at her, speechless.

“And this way,” Hange continues, “you can continue to meet with him while Moblit and I tend to business in Trost and the MPs can’t stop you. We’ve already made a report on your promotion.”

“Wait,” you say, holding up a hand, “Executive Officer like Moblit? Isn’t that standard practice for a Squad Leader or Captain with a squad under their command? Not Commander of a branch?”

Hange shakes her head. “Your rank will match Moblit’s, certainly, but Squad Leaders aren’t the only ones who take on Executive Officers. Commander Pixis has two, Anka Rheinberger and Gustav something-or-other.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it, kid,” she says, making her way back to the door. “Now, I can’t stay. Your squad assignments will be more fluid moving forward, but for now we just need you focusing on getting to Nile. If the First Interior Squad continue to be as impenetrable as you’ve reported then he’s our best bet for getting any intel on who’s after Eren and Historia.”

“Walls…” you mutter, more to yourself than Hange.

She rests a comforting hand on your shoulder, her eyes softening. “Erwin and I both have the utmost confidence in you, (Y/N).”

Your smile is fleeting.

“One more thing, Squad Leader.” She raises her eyebrows, prompting you to go on. “Nile was at my military tribunal. We never met personally, but I’m afraid he’ll recognize me.”

Hange nods. “Erwin and I discussed the possibility. There is a chance of it, of course, but we believe it’s unlikely. No offense, but you weren’t looking too hot at the hearing. And with the new look,” she says, gesturing to your short hair and likely referring to the getup you use undercover, “you’re almost a different person. Erwin knows him personally, you know. He doesn’t think Nile will have paid close enough attention back then to recognize you now.”

You bite your lip and nod, already feeling trepidation at the thought of the assignment. It occurs to you that it’s not too late to back out — she’s standing before you right now and has done nothing to suggest the choice is no longer yours. And yet, the importance of the task seems to have increased tenfold. You picture your friends -— headstrong Eren and sweet, pretty Historia — and your resolve strengthens.

You slam your fist to your chest and lift your chin. “I’ll get the intel, Squad Leader,” you say, your voice ironclad.

Hange nods and smiles gently. You think how, recently, her smiles have come much less frequently than when you first met.

“I’m sure you will, Executive Officer.”

You relax your salute as you watch her go, the nondescript cloak fluttering behind her.

* * *

It takes two days to reach Nile.

Two fucking days.

In this time, you’re tasked with informing Erwin that Squad Levi was intercepted and Eren and Historia fell into enemy hands. While it’s been confirmed that the First Interior Squad were responsible, who they’re acting on behalf of remains a mystery.

On the first night, your first night in your new station, you return to the barracks empty handed — you didn’t even lay eyes on the Military Police Commander.

“There’s a lot going on,” Erwin tells you when you report to him the next morning. “I would be surprised if he were easy to get a hold of.”

This aggravates you to no end. No  _ way _ you’ve been on this God-awful mission for weeks now, only to lose Eren and Historia and turn up no good intel at all.

On the second day you spend a large part of the afternoon staking out the Military Police HQ. You watch as soldiers go in and out, straining your ears to pick up any information at all on the Commander. As the sun begins to set, you abandon your post and return to the barracks. You’ll try the taverns again, you decide, and if you can’t get to Nile then perhaps one of his Squad Leaders, at least, will have something for you.

You dress carefully and apply your makeup meticulously. You know that Nile won’t be as easy to trick as some of your past victims. For one, he’s married with children. You have to admit the thought makes you uneasy; inspiring thoughts of adultery doesn’t exactly sit right with you.

After much thought, you dress in the white skirt you sewed yourself back when you lived with Levi and a feminine top with sleeves that hang from your shoulders. At the last minute, you decide it’s worth layering your underbust corset on top, cinching your waist and accentuating the curves of your hips .  _ Not bad _ , you decide.  _ Tasteful enough, but not too much.  _ Instead of smearing the garish makeup on, like you have when pursuing other men, you carefully line your eyes with thin, delicate strokes and rub just a hint of the red lipstick to your mouth. It’s just enough to enhance your natural features as opposed to smothering them.

That same unease stewing in your gut, you don your gray cloak and head outside to get your carriage.

The tavern is mere blocks from the royal palace, certainly a more likely haunt for a Commander than the seedier pubs you’ve had success in with other men. You exit the carriage down the street, so as not to draw attention to yourself, and head to the tavern. The heels of your boots click against the smooth pavement with each step. You’re painfully aware that beneath the very stones you’re walking across lies the underground city you grew up in.

It’s not so late yet that you expect the tavern to be crowded. The door is propped open when you arrive and a quick survey of the room reveals only a handful of tables are occupied. The dining room is nice — much nicer than the one you served in down below these very streets. The barstools are cushioned and made of sturdy mahogany, the tables are clean, and there’s an extensive selection of wine and liquor displayed behind the bar. You do your best not to draw attention to yourself as you move to a vacant table in the back, one with a clear view of the entrance.

You decline the waitress’ offer to start you with something, telling her you’re expecting someone. She nods with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, one that you recognize from your own face, and leaves you be.

You sit there alone for you don’t know how long. The tavern fills quickly once the shops in the area are all closed and you will yourself to fade into the background; the last thing you want is some overly-friendly guy to make a move on you.

And then your luck turns.

Two officers enter the tavern, their jackets emblazoned with the unicorn crest, and take a table near yours.

“You think Dok will turn up tonight?” one of them asks.

“Believe it or not I think he will. Poor sap could certainly afford to unwind after being up to his eyeballs in Survey Corps crap.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and continue your silent vigil.

A half an hour later he comes. You recognize him from your tribunal immediately and pray Hange was right that he won’t be able to say the same about you. Sure enough, his eyes glide right over your table and settle on the officers nearby. They call greetings and you watch, curious, as Nile simply nods before taking a seat at the bar, alone.

Your heart skips with excitement over your good fortune. Getting what you need will be a cakewalk without taking chatty, drunk companions into account.

You wait for him to get comfortable and order a drink. Then, without delay, you stand and make your way to the bar.

“Excuse me, sir, is this seat taken?” you ask in your sweetest voice.

He glances your way and seems surprised to catch your eye and find you’re talking to him. He clears his throat somewhat nervously before speaking.

_ Walls, this will be easy. _

“No, please,” he replies, gesturing to the vacant stool.

You smile demurely and bat your eyelashes at him.

“Thank you,” you coo, settling on the stool and arranging your skirts just so. “Mind if I ask what you’re drinking?” you question, tilting your head towards the tumbler of whiskey he’s nursing.

“Ah,” he says, searching the glass as if the answer were in the amber liquid, “it’s a vintage bourbon.”

“Hm,” you hum, coaxing him ever so subtly to go on.

He takes the hint, though you sense you haven’t yet snagged his interest in the way you need to.

“Do you have a taste for whiskey?” he ventures, looking up from the tumbler to find you’ve scooted an inch or so closer.

“Certainly,” you reply.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob and then meet his eyes, daring him to break contact.

Finally, he does, but only to flag down the bartender.

“You should try this then,” he says as the bartender makes his way over. “On me.”

_ Score. _

“Oh, you’re too kind.” You study his face and try to imagine anything other than punching him squarely in the teeth. “What’s your name?”

“Nile,” he replies, looking your way again. “And yours?”  
“Fara,” you tell him, having decided early on that your old friend’s name would be your alias. Still, it leaves a sour taste on your tongue as you think of your mentor from the Underground and the sacrifice she was forced to make for you. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nile.” You purr his name.

The bartender sets your drink in front of you and you lift it to your lips, letting only a drop of the liquor actually touch your tongue; it wouldn’t do for you to get drunk and blow the whole mission.

You set the drink on the bartop with a gentle  _ thud _ and look pointedly at Nile’s bolo tie, the clearest indicator of his rank. Chancing a bold move, you lift your hand and trail your fingers along the cord, suppressing a grimace at the contact.

He looks at you questioningly.

“Is it appropriate to call you Nile? Or is it Captain?” you venture, meeting his questioning gaze with what you hope is a steady, suggestive look of your own.

“Commander, actually,” replies Nile in a gruff voice.

You retract your hand as he lifts his tumbler and downs the whole drink. When the bartender places a fresh one before him he doesn’t question it, going straight in for another sip.

You swirl the liquid in your glass and lean  _ just slightly  _ closer. “Commander, then. I meant no disrespect earlier.”

“None taken,” he tells you shortly, not meeting your eye.

You see the gentle flush on his neck and take this as a good sign.

“Commander, tell me, are you married?”

He swallows more of the bourbon before responding. “Yes, I am. We’ve got two girls, too.”

“Ah, a family man,” you say in a voice much too provocative for your words. “I’m sure your wife is waiting anxiously for you to arrive home tonight.”

He swallows again, gripping his tumbler. “My family is in Stohess, actually.”

“Oh, so far away,” you lament, pouting your lower lip. Nile’s only reply is to gulp down more of his drink.

You’re beginning to get impatient, despite the way you’re managing to make him squirm — you can tell he’s nervous and nervous men are easy to crack. But you’ve lured him into a false sense of security, bringing up his wife, and you fear he’ll grow cold before he opens up.

In an attempt to move things along, you place a gentle hand on his forearm where it rests on the bartop.

“Must be lonely, retiring to an empty bed night after night,” you hum, careful to lean close but not so close the officers seated behind you might feel the need to cause a ruckus.

Nile’s mouth opens and closes once, twice, three times before he speaks.

“Have we met before?” is what he manages to get out.

Your blood runs cold and your gentle smile freezes on your lips.

A beat passes while you scramble for something to say. “I would remember a man like you, Commander,” you eventually reply, more blasé than you feel. “Why do you ask?”

He shakes his head and knocks back more of the whiskey.

“It was a ridiculous question.”

“No such thing,” you tell him in your most soothing voice.

He grunts. “There was a girl from the Underground, Fara something. Felt for a second like seeing a ghost.”

Unbidden, your hand tightens on Nile’s forearm enough that he looks at you curiously. Your mouth has gone suddenly dry and, against your better judgement, you take a healthy drink of your own bourbon.

“Some connection of yours?” asks the Commander.

“Now,” you say, your grip unrelenting and your smile significantly more forced, “how would a nice city girl like me know anyone from the Underground?”

This earns you another grunt before he finishes his second drink. Swiftly, the bartender replaces it with a third. You start to wonder if the guy is somehow on your side.

“What would a high-ranking gentleman like you have to do with an Underground wench?” you venture as innocently as you can.

Nile shakes his head yet again, already starting on the fresh drink.

“Scapegoat,” he says, smacking his lips and finally meeting your eye.

Your jaw clenches and your smile vanishes. For several beats you can’t speak. The image of Nile sprawled on the floor with a broken nose — no, a broken neck —won’t leave your mind.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you demand, forgetting the facade you’re supposed to be putting on. You pray you’ve jumped to the wrong conclusions.

Nile looks down at your hand on his arm and you force yourself to relent your grip just slightly.

For a second you think you’ve blown it. Then, his shoulders slump and ice clinks in the glass as he brings it once again to his thin lips.

“Lord Reiss wouldn’t get off my back about the Alastair brat. We just found him another barmaid to turn over to the First Interior Squad and shut him up for a while. Of course, that backfired as soon as the Survey Corps got their hands on her. And the whole time she was somehow right under our noses, in the Cadet Corps.”

You are suddenly so repulsed, so utterly revolted, by this absolute pig sitting beside you that you could vomit. For a moment you are so blinded by rage and grief that you see spots at the edge of your vision. Your knife feels white-hot in the place it presses against the skin of your thigh and you allow yourself to indulge in a fantasy in which you pull it out and slit Nile’s throat, then launch over tables to do the same to the officers behind you.

“Fara?” Nile’s voice cuts through your reverie, cool and questioning, and you realize your nails are digging into his arm.

You cool down enough to remove your hand completely this time and realize that,  _ shit _ , he’s at least caught wind of your scheme. So you have two options: one, cut your losses and bolt. You’re all but convinced that if Reiss was behind your capture then he would be the one orchestrating Historia’s and Eren’s as well. Your other choice is to salvage the situation and stay; Nile has drunk enough to divulge what is surely classified military intel in a total stranger, and not only that but talking as if a civilian off the street would know the name Alastair. If he’s inebriated enough to do that then by the time he reaches the bottom of this glass he may just confirm it.

Swallowing thickly, forcing thoughts of Fara’s mangled, bloodied body on an examining table from your mind, you plaster another sweet-as-sugar smile on your face.

“Excuse me,” you say airily, fanning yourself. “The strangest thing just happened. I think the alcohol’s made me dizzy. Or perhaps—” you cease the fanning to run your hands down your torso, just skirting your breasts, “—my corset’s too tight.”

You watch all the suspicion march straight out of Nile’s eyes as they follow the course of your hands.

_ Too. Easy. _

“Need some air?”

“No, no,” you wave your hand, “it’s passed already. Terrible, about that girl. I suppose it was better her than a well-bred woman from the Interior though, hm?” you say fighting to keep your lips upturned and pleasant.

“Hm,” agrees the Commander and —  _ there _ — you watch as he drains drink number three.

“Speaking of terrible,” you say in a low, gossipy voice. Nile leans close to  _ you  _ this time as you continue. “I’ve heard some awful rumors of those devils in the Survey Corps. They’re letting their freedom get to their heads, aren’t they?”

“I’m afraid so,” nods Nile. “Erwin’s a loose cannon. I fear if left unchecked the Scouts would do more harm than good.”

“Perhaps this Rice you mentioned could do something about them?,” you prod, intentionally mispronouncing the Reiss name. “Send his Interior Police after the Titan shifter once and for all?”

“Yes and not only that,” he confides easily, “but they’re locking Erwin up, as soon as tomorrow. Just got the news before coming here. A prominent merchant was murdered in Trost and people have fingers they need to point. Commander of the Survey Corps is a convenient solution to all these problems, wouldn’t you say?”

The blood drains from your face. You don’t even have a chance to celebrate that, finally, you’ve confirmed who was after Eren and Historia. No, instead a spike of fear pierces your heart and you break out into a cold sweat. Your gut turns with dread.

Your shoulders are tense and, for the last time, you train your eyes on Nile’s thin, pointed face.

“Surely that’s extreme,” you choke out.

Nile sighs heavily, tracing a groove in the bartop with his finger.

“The Interior Police are not under my Command, Fara. They only report to one man.”

_ Lord Reiss. _

You bolt up from your stool and Nile raises a questioning brow.

“Commander, you have been so very kind,” you tell him in a clipped voice. “I can’t tell you how grateful I’ve been for your company.”

“Why the hurry all of a sudden?” he asks, the suspicion back in his voice.

“It’s another dizzy spell, I’m afraid,” you tell him, distractedly fanning your face. “I imagine we will be seeing each other again, Commander.”

“Hm,” he hums and you see his internal debate written across his features. “Can I arrange a carriage for you?” he offers, and you know you’ve gotten away with it.

“No need, I live very close.”

_ Enough of this. Time to leave. _

“Goodnight, sir.”

“Take care, Fara.”

Her name on his lips makes your stomach churn. You rush out of the tavern, grabbing your cloak from a hook by the door as you go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are your thoughts on your involvement with the PLOT? My obsession, plot, AKA the death of fluff. I promise the ~romance~ will return very soon!
> 
> Until next time,  
> Catherine


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, friends! Thank you for the feedback on the last chapter. I'm really glad to hear that some of you are in fact fans of sweet reader's development outside of her relationship with Levi.
> 
> That being said...please forgive me...we're going one more chapter without major Levi involvement. But he will be back in Chapter 25!! I promise!!!
> 
> Please enjoy xx

When the carriage reaches the barracks you jump out before it even comes to a complete stop. You run through the doors, your cloak and skirts billowing behind you, and nearly trip over the hems.

_ “Ugh _ ,” you say, exasperated, and gather the fabric in your fists to keep it from under your feet.

You rush up the stairs, almost panting now, and up to the two MPs posted at the end of the corridor leading to Erwin’s quarters. You realize when you don’t recognize either man that there are different soldiers appointed to the night shift.

“(Y/N) Alastair,” you breathe your name to them. “For the Commander.”

“Listen, sweetheart, it’s late,” one of them tells you, leering at you. “Why don’t you run on home and try to see Erwin if he ever walks free again?”

Now having caught your breath, you lift your chin and meet his eye. “ _ Executive Officer  _ (Y/N) Alastair of the Survey Corps, here to see Commander Erwin. Now get the hell out of my way before I make you,” you snarl, your hands balling into fists.

His eyebrows shoot up and his companion balks.

“We gotta let her in, Tobias,” the other one says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tobias grumbles.

You don’t give them a chance to step aside before pushing past them and running down the hall. You shove the door open without knocking, not even taking into consideration the late hour, and slam it shut behind you.

“ _ Erwin _ ,” you gasp, stumbling into the room.

Erwin is standing at the window, gazing out. You’re relieved to see him fully dressed in trousers and a white button down shirt. There’s a pitcher of water and a glass out on the small table, an oil lamp flickering on the desk. When you bust in the only indication of his surprise is a slight raise of his full eyebrows. As you clutch your chest, trying to collect yourself, he crosses the room to pour you a glass of water and hand it to you. You accept it gratefully and chug the whole thing down in one go.

“I take it you got what we needed,” he says in a measured tone.

“It’s worse than we thought,” you inform him, slamming the cup down and wondering where to begin.

You begin to pace, shrugging the cloak off and laying it on Erwin’s bed as you do so. You don’t miss the way he eyes your bare shoulders and tightly fastened corset. It occurs to you that he’s never seen you dressed this way; you’ve only ever made your reports the next morning, in uniform. You choose to ignore it, too preoccupied by what you’ve learned.

“It’s Reiss,” you start with, running your hands through your hair. “Lord Reiss, Historia’s father. He orchestrated the kidnapping, he’s the one the First Interior Squad report to.” You don’t even realize you’re now tugging at your hair until a few strands come loose in your hand. You take to clutching your skirt instead. “Erwin, they’re framing the Corps for murder; I’m certain Dimo Reeves was taken out. They’ll weave it to look like you set up a ploy to avoid handing Eren over. Nile thinks you hardly have until tomorrow before they lock you up.”

You meet Erwin’s ice blue eyes and see firm resignation set in them. “I see,” is all he says.

“Tell me you talked to Pixis,” you plead, stopping in front of him and resting your hands on his chest. “Tell me we at least have that.”

He shakes his head, looking at you sternly from his close proximity. “We’ve arranged a meeting for first thing in the morning. I suspect, however, that Pixis’ alliance is to the people of the walls first and foremost. We have to trust that, when the time comes, he’ll see things the way we do.”

You nod frantically and drop your hands from his broad chest to resume your pacing. “Good, good. He  _ must _ , surely he will, Pixis is a good man—”

“(Y/N).”

Erwin’s voice is deep and commanding, and you know he’s urging you to calm down. You pay it no mind, unable to stand still. He sighs and continues. “Did Nile say anything else?”

“Oh, did he,” you growl, turning on your heel and marching back towards Erwin. “Reiss  _ also _ ,” you say shrilly, “is the one who put the search warrant out for me  _ and, _ ” your voice rises further in pitch, “led Nile to seize a scapegoat when I never turned up.”

At long last, the emotion rises in your throat and you can’t stifle it. You gasp out a sob and seize your pacing, planting your hands on the table and hanging your head. The tears begin to flow and you let them come, not caring about the spectacle you’re making of yourself.

“She was my  _ friend _ ,” you cry, “and she died in my place.”

Erwin regards you from a safe distance as if you were a rabid animal — approaching you might make you dangerous. Perhaps he’s right.

“I’m done with this  _ fucking _ mission” you spit. You throw your head back and angrily wipe away your tears. “I got what we needed, right? I’m done playing slut.”

With trembling fingers you reach behind you to fumble at the ties of your corset, suddenly craving a deep, unhindered breath like you never have before. You struggle with the knot and quickly become frustrated. Another sob threatens to rise in your throat.

Then you feel a strong, warm hand on yours. Erwin has come up behind you and is steadying your heart rate with a single, comforting touch. With a quivering sigh, you drop your hands and feel Erwin picking away at the knot at the small of your back. Once it’s loosened, you wrench it from your waist, aggravated, though with fewer dramatics than before.

“You’ve completed the mission, (Y/N). Your next assignment will be worthy of a soldier,” says Erwin at your shoulder.

You can sense his nearness, almost feel his warmth.

You nod silently, studying the tabletop.

“I won’t let them try you for a murder you didn’t commit,” you say evenly. “You’ll be hanged. I’ll get a hold of Hange and Levi and we’ll figure something out—”

“No,” he says sternly, still at your side. “There’s nothing that can be done for me if this is the course of action they’ve chosen. We simply don’t have enough information to make a case.” 

You crane your neck to look up at him, searching his eyes for something that might suggest how he’s feeling. All you find is resilience.

“Our best hope lies in the coup d’etat,” he tells you and you nod, sighing miserably.

You let your head hang again.

“I’m tired,” you breathe after a moment, the pounding of your heart having subsided significantly.  
“I can imagine,” he replies.

You look up at the sound of chair legs dragging along the floorboards and see Erwin has pulled one out for you. You sigh, now feeling self conscious over your outburst, and settle into the chair tiredly.

He sits across from you, searching your face the way you had his moments before.

“(Y/N),” he says evenly. “You realize that you’re at as great of a risk as I am? I wouldn’t be surprised if the Military Police come for you tomorrow as well.”

You nod slowly, letting his words sink in.

“I need you to keep a low profile until the coup. Don’t go out in uniform. Don’t stay at the barracks. If all goes well, it should only be for a day or so. If the coup fails, seek out Hange and Levi. Don’t reveal your identity.”

You do nothing but continue to nod, refusing to dwell on all the ways things could go wrong. Frowning, you lean back into your chair and cross your arms. Your teeth find your lower lip and worry at the flesh while you think.

For several minutes you sit this way quietly, each of you resigned to your private thoughts. 

“Erwin,” you say after some time, “you put your faith in me, back then.” You know he understands you’re referring to that night in Levi’s kitchen, so long ago. “No one else in my life…” you swallow thickly, “had ever done that before.”

He looks at you evenly. “It was a risk, I admit. But I don’t regret it. When I learned that you were in Levi’s care…I couldn’t let you slip through my fingers.” You admire the way he never once breaks eye contact. “Understanding you was to take another step closer to the truth.”

“Ah,” you sigh, a humorless smile appearing on your lips as realization dawns. “That’s all I am. Another piece to the puzzle.”

“No,” he says firmly, without hesitation. “You’re a soldier. You’re strong and intelligent and invaluable to our mission. You’ve proven that to me time and time again.”

You sense nothing but truth from his words. Thoughtfully, you lean forward to place your elbow on the table and rest your chin in your hand. Erwin’s company, his smooth voice, are a great help in calming you down. He too adjusts his posture and you watch his empty sleeve sway with the movement.

After another several moments of silence you’re again the one to break it.

“If things were different, I would sit down and mend your shirts to get rid of the extra fabric on the right sleeves.” 

He blinks at you once before his lips twitch in that way you’ve come to know so well.

“If things were different between us? Or if things were different for humanity?” 

“Both,” you reply without thinking.

You look at him from across the table, daring him to say more, but he simply looks back.

Finally, you stand, pushing your chair back and stepping out from the table.

“I’ll be gone in the morning,” you tell him, wondering briefly where you’ll go. You’ll have to stay near the capital — near your Commander — in case he needs you.

Erwin nods, clenching his square jaw and watching your movements as you collect your cloak and discarded corset from his bed.

He stands, his chair scraping the floorboards as you cross the room to the door. You hear his footsteps from behind you as he walks you the short distance.

You’re poised to leave, wondering if you should say anything more, when Erwin all but closes the gap between you, his chest a hairsbreadth from your back.

When he speaks his voice is low and resonant.

“Spend the night with me.”

Your hand freezes on the doorknob and your heart skips a beat. You’re taken aback more by his nearness than his words. Isn’t this what you had been expecting — maybe even hoping for — seated at the table moments before?

Slowly, you release the doorknob and turn to face him. Your eyes lock and your mind is flooded with the thought of it. His bed taunts you from the corner of your eye. How easy it would be to surrender yourself to him, to give in to the comfort and sureness of Erwin Smith. You can’t help but imagine melting against his strong chest, feeling the length of his body against yours, his lips on your skin. It would be simple, delicious, erotic.

You know this man has devoted his life to his duties. You’re not so naive as to believe that giving yourself to him here would mean a happy ending for you. No, all he’s offering you is closeness, some comfort, for just this one night.

He looks at you with a glint in his eye and tips his face ever so slightly towards yours — a question. You rise to meet him and, cautiously, your lips meet his.

They’re warm and strong and sure, just like the rest of him. Your overactive imagination jumps into overdrive as you inhale the heady, masculine scent of him. You could pull his shirt off right now, let him undress you, let him throw you down on that bed and claim you with his mouth and his fingers and…all of him.

Perhaps he can read your mind because his lips begin to move against yours more deliberately. His arm snakes around your waist and you lift your hands to his neck, just beneath his prominent jaw, so your thumbs can run along the slightest hint of stubble on his face. That inch of space between you vanishes as your chests press together. The kiss turns heated and sloppy as your mouths open slightly and your tongues dance. He groans, low and sensual, and in that moment you  _ want _ him, you desperately want him to pin you down and fuck all thoughts of your terrible assignment, this awful war, and your lingering, pining thoughts of Levi out of your head.

_ Levi _ .

You abruptly break the kiss and take half a step back. Erwin’s hand is still at the place where it migrated to the small of your back, clutching the top of your skirt. You’re both panting just a bit and Erwin’s looking at you with hooded eyes.

“I can’t,” you breathe. Your hands creep up from his neck to delicately cup his cheeks. He sighs knowingly and you frown. “Erwin,” you whisper, “you know I can’t.”

The corners of his mouth pull up in the ghost of a smile. “I know, (Y/N). But I’m a betting man. I suppose not all of my gambles can pay off.”

You return his small, sad smile with your own and once more press your lips against his gently, chastely. An apology.

The gravity of this moment is not lost on you. Being with Erwin tonight would be safe and sure and greatly comforting. From the moment you met he’s demonstrated that he sees you as a person, a woman, to be left to her own devices and decide her own fate. He respects you and supports you.

Loving him would be so effortless. But when has anything in your life been that way?

Gently, quietly, you feel the flutter of Erwin’s pulse beneath the pads of your fingers. You lower your hands and again reach for the doorknob.

This time you pull it open and step out, your choice made. You can only hope it wasn’t the wrong one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, okay. I couldn't help myself. You all knew I thirst for Erwin and this was me just working through those feelings :] Did anyone see it coming? My intent was not to blindside you guys! I tried to plant some hints we might end up here...
> 
> This is still a LeviXReader~! Never fear!
> 
> Let me know what you think ^.^


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a Halloween update.
> 
> Stay safe and stay spooky...

Dressed plainly in pants and a button-up shirt, the hood of your nondescript cloak concealing your features, you take to the streets of Mitras at the first hint of morning light.

You linger near the barracks only long enough to see Erwin turn himself over to the MPs, led by Commander Nile. Hot, acidic anger rises in your throat like bile at the sight of it.  _ Pigs _ , you think vehemently, turning away from the scene before you as Erwin 

ducks his head into the carriage. You’ve confirmed with your own eyes what Nile told you would happen. That’s enough. Now, you need to make yourself scarce.

And you do. For twenty-four hours you keep to the streets, your hood up and ears out for any word of a high-profile trial of the Commander of the Survey Corps. It comes in whispers at first, hushed voices at storefronts, from women dressed in fine silk and MPs on patrol. Then, it’s all but shouted from the rooftops. Discretion is abandoned once the news is confirmed and people cry it at the tops of their lungs: The Survey Corps are being disbanded. Commander Erwin will be hanged.

Your legs feel like lead as you make your way to the City Center. You stand in an alley off the square, shrouded in shadow, as the gallows he’ll hang from are erected. Your eyes are vacant and your lips are tight. You feel empty, defeated.  _ Is this the end for me?  _ you wonder over and over.  _ Kristoff, I’m sorry,  _ you shout in your head.

You find yourself wishing desperately that you weren’t alone. You yearn for the solace of companionship, even just a warm body standing beside you. Your mind goes to your faint recollection of your brother as he was in his adolescence, all shaggy hair and long limbs. But when you shut your eyes, seeking comfort, you picture Levi’s kitchen, a whistling kettle, his slender fingers on the top button of his shirt. The memories have begun to feel like someone else’s; they’re unattainable now. Too good to be true.

When you open your eyes again you see people are already lingering, chattering excitedly about the impending trial.  _ Nothing like a public hanging to really bring a community together _ , you think cynically.

You stand rooted to the spot when, a short time later, an escorted carriage trundles across the square and through the gates of the royal palace. You know from the mounted MPs accompanying it that Erwin is inside, placing all his bets on a successful coup.

_ That bastard,  _ you think, no malice in the words at all. Only desolation.

The day creeps by as if it were years long. The crowd has grown so thick by the time the sun is at its peak that you could hardly make an escape if you tried. But carriages and mounted Garrison soldiers have been in and out of the palace grounds all day; surely this is a good sign?

It is. At sunset you watch as Erwin takes to the gallows he was meant to hang from. Alongside him are the other military leaders. Now out in the open with your hood falling back from your awed face, it takes ages for the news to sink in. 

_ Surely not…it would’ve taken a miracle… _

But, in fact, the coup was a success.

You push and shove and elbow your way through the throngs of people to reach the edge of the square. Your eyes fall on Erwin’s bruised face, his swollen eye, but even that can’t curb your excitement. As soon as you’ve laid eyes on him, confirming he’s more or less in one piece, you shove out of the square and race back to the barracks.

Your enthusiasm is short-lived, however, because now you’re forced to ask yourself,  _ what about the others? _

Levi’s face crosses your mind again, illuminated by the flickering flame of an oil lamp, late one indiscernible evening.

* * *

Night has fallen by the time Erwin has organized a convoy to seek out Levi and Hange. Back in uniform for the first time in what feels like ages, you mount your mare and charge north, holding a torch out before you.

The Titan is impossible to miss; it’s bigger than the Colossal Titan and leaves burnt foliage in its wake. You’re transfixed by its slow progress towards Wall Sina and find that you can’t tear your eyes away. You look at it for what could be seconds or could be hours — either way, you can’t shake the image of a man from your mind, a man you’ve never seen before. A man with eyes that look strikingly familiar.

When the convoy reaches Squad Levi it’s Historia you see first. Historia and those same eyes. Your mouth falls open when you realize that, again, your own mind has escaped you. You had looked at the Titan and seen Rod Reiss.

Levi confirms it when he addresses Erwin. With great effort you peel your gaze from Historia and do a sweep of the squad — everyone is intact, save Hange, who lies in the cart with a wounded shoulder. It occurs to you that you should say something to her.  _ Are you all right?  _ Or _ I did it, I completed the mission, _ but no words rise to your lips. You feel shaken. Dazed.

After several painstaking minutes you look at Levi. He’s speaking to Erwin in an even, clipped tone, the urgency lying just beneath the surface. You see his eyes flit your way more than once. When Erwin gallops off Levi takes the opportunity to turn his full attention your way, training those cool gray eyes on your set face, your squared posture.

Whatever passes between you is palpable. He may as well speak the words you see in his face —  _ you’re alive _ . A lump rises in your throat. To think an hour ago you were forced to wonder if you would ever see him again. Now, here he stands before you, and you have no words. You grip the reins tightly, your horse fidgeting beneath you, and see in his face that he is surely craving your touch as much as you are his. You yearn to reach out, even just to rest a hand over his, to feel its warmth, to sense the pulse beating beneath his skin. Alive.

His squad moves out, following Erwin to the wall. You’re the first to break eye contact, distracted again by the overwhelming presence of Rod Reiss. For a moment his eyes don’t leave your figure, but then you watch as Levi too gallops towards the wall, throwing one barely perceptible glance back over his shoulder.

* * *

Your 3DM gear sits heavily at your hips as you search the ruins of the Reiss family’s underground cavern. The soles of your boots are stained with blood and mud. Your eyes rake over demolished gear, bloodied limbs and other ghastly remains.

As you walk you ponder the cause they were fighting for. Was it right for them to die, simply for having different beliefs from yours? No, it wasn’t. But this is what it came to. The Survey Corps fights for the freedom of humanity, meaning their dead enemies fought to keep humans locked in a cage. You breathe deeply and lift your head to admire the rays of early morning light shining against the exposed ore of the cavern. For a man to be born underground, to never know the feel of the sun on his skin and the breeze in his hair, yet still fight to keep his wings clipped, fills you with a deep-set melancholy you’ve never quite experienced before.

“(Y/N).”

You turn to see Levi approaching you, his rifle slack in his hands and his forest green cloak lifted by the breeze.

“We found him.”

You walk in silence as you’re led to the edge of a thicket of woods not far off. You note that, beneath your feet, several blades of grass have been stained with blood — an obvious trail. And then there, slumped against the trunk of a tree, a badly wounded man hangs his head. Anti-personnel vertical maneuvering equipment lies discarded in a heap beside him.

“Kenny,” says Levi, not quite addressing him, rather stating his name.

“Oh, gee,” croaks the man, hardly able to look up.

Kenny the Ripper — or Kenny Ackerman, you suppose you should say — sits before you in a pitiful mound of barely-alive flesh and bones. His skin is riddled with burns and open wounds, one side of his face so bad that the hair is burned away and the eye sealed shut. A hollow, nameless emotion wells inside you as you look down at your father’s killer.

“What’s this, Levi?” taunts Kenny, “finally got yourself a girl?”

You and Levi both ignore the jab. Levi stands beside you as you get down on one knee so you and Kenny are at eye level. Blood dribbles from his mouth and down his chin.

“Captain,” you address him in a way reminiscent of Levi saying “Alastair,” as if it were a slur. “You’ve come a long way from the rumors I heard when I was a child.”

He chuckles humorlessly. “Yeah, Kenny the Ripper, the stuff of nightmares. Come on now, Levi,” he says, swinging his head sluggishly to address him, “you brought your girlfriend just to mock me?”

“Listen to what she has to say,” replies Levi shortly.

Kenny’s eyes flick back to you.

“I too spent most of my life in the Underground,” you inform him, your mouth set in a hard line.

“Sorry to hear it, kid, but what are you telling me for? Can’t a man die in peace?”

Your expression remains unchanged when you speak one significant name.

“Edward Alastair.”

Kenny stares at you, for a moment speechless, then chuckles in a way that looks like it pains him. “I knew Ed well. What about him?”

“I’m his daughter.”

“Ah,” breathes Kenny. You wait as he coughs, blood spurting out of his throat and down the front of his shirt. “So you wanna know why I killed him.”

Your silence serves as your answer.

“I didn’t,” he says, his eyes finding yours again.

“Don’t lie to me,” you say, your tone even, quiet, and commanding.

Kenny emits another painful laugh. “I may be a lot of things, Miss Alastair, but I am not a liar.”

You study his face for a beat before glancing up at Levi. Something in the set of his mouth tells you that you can trust Kenny in this.

“I bet Erza told ya that, didn’t she?” Kenny goes on. “Well, the Assembly had him taken out, then ran to her and blamed it on me.” He sits silently as you digest this, then continues. “Is Erza still alive? I was always captivated by her. Woulda been real pretty if she ever had enough to eat.”

“My mother’s been dead for years.” you spit. “I’m here to talk about my father. Why would the Crown have him killed and then cover it up?”

That same painful chuckle. “Ed killed more MPs than I did, lady. Kept a lower profile than me though. No one really knew about his extracurriculars.” Kenny doesn’t stop as you clench your teeth, thinly masking your shock. “Was easier to say that than give people the idea the government was out killing civilians without trial. But man,” Kenny shakes his head, “he hated the King like nothing I’ve ever seen before. The real King, I mean. Reiss. Ed was always going on about his revenge.”

Your mind scrambles to make sense of Kenny’s story.

“Revenge for what?” you demand curtly.

“The Alastairs were servants to the crown before the King cast them aside. Then they descended into poverty. It’s a sad story Levi and I know well. The Ackermans faced the same persecution, ain’t that right?”

You should be shocked. Instead, you’re reminded of the feeling you had at the ruins of Utgar Castle. No — not a feeling, a vision, a series of visions. The castle once stood tall and proud, not a league from the wall. Too near, perhaps, for it to be a practical residence for noblemen. A perfect location, however, to house a powerful family of soldiers. To serve as a line of defense.

You think of the rich ballroom, extensive chambers, a stockroom piled high with spirits and goods. These memories aren’t yours, no, but they are your family’s.

_ Castle Utgard belonged to…the Alastairs? _

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. You’re hardly aware of a gust of wind rustling the leaves overhead or Kenny coughing up more blood. Both Ackermans’ eyes are trained on your face.

You stand abruptly. Levi shoots you a meaningful look but you turn away, your head swimming, and walk back towards the cavern without another word.

When Levi informed you Kenny the Ripper was leading the Anti-Personnel Control Squad you jumped at the chance to dig up the rotten man’s corpse. And if he was alive, to look your father’s killer in the eye, to ask why you were robbed of a father, to finally understand one small piece of the tragic life you were born into.

But now that you’ve had that chance more questions have been raised than have been answered. Why would your mother never once tell you who your father was? Is it possible she didn’t know? If she did, surely she would have questioned the circumstances surrounding his death. And this revenge…why were the Alastairs cast aside? What is this connection you’ve suddenly felt to your ancestors, borne only from being addressed by your family name by the Commander-In-Chief, back at your hearing? It never occurred to you to resist the name that you never went by before, rather you embraced it — but only after you met Eren and the other Titan shifters. Only when you began to experience these visions and instincts did you ever feel any sort of connection to your father’s family, whatever form it took, be it taking his name or seeing the castle.

You find yourself walking clear past the cavern, up and around the collapsed ground to a vantage point where you can overlook the destruction rather than stand within it. Your heart aches for your brother in a shattering, crushing way you haven’t experienced in years. Overcome with emotion, you crouch down and hang your head, sobs racking through your body. Kristoff is the only person you ever knew who may understand what you’re going through, the only other person alive during your lifetime who might have experienced the same things. But he was snatched away from you before you ever had the chance to know, to understand, these things about yourself. About both of you.

You stay that way for a while, allowing the tears to flow freely as the emotion you’ve suppressed for weeks comes pouring out. You wish simply, childishly, that your brother were still alive. You want to talk to him about your father, about what this all means.

Eventually, your sobs quiet and your eyes dry. You sniffle and wipe your face with the backs of your hands.

You wonder how different your life would be if Edward Alastair had survived to raise you. Would you have turned out exactly like Levi once was — a thug? Or worse, a ruthless serial killer like Kenny and your father, intent on nothing but revenge for the injustices carried out against you and your long-dead family?

You hear the sound of footsteps in the grass and you lift your head, face still streaked with tears, to see Levi approaching. His expression is grim and splattered with blood. He studies the ground and tucks something into the folds of his cloak, closing the distance between you so he stands not half a meter away.

You search his eyes but you find him, for once, impossible to read. You stand to look him in the eye.

“Levi,” you say, unsure where the thought is headed. You settle for pulling a handkerchief from your pocket and holding it out to him, planning on offering it for the blood on his face. The words die in your throat, however, when Levi reaches out, taking your entire hand in his and holding it tight with the fabric clutched between you.

Your lips part. Levi stares at your clasped hands and, now, you see unmistakeable pain in his eyes. A morose, empty pain mirrored in your own tearstained face. You clutch his hand and, without hesitation, lift your other arm to circle his neck, stepping close and pulling him into an embrace.

He responds more readily than you ever thought he would. He drops the handkerchief to wrap an arm around your waist and weave a hand gently through the back of your hair, clutching you to him. You feel the slick, wet blood where your faces brush against each other.

You’re overwhelmed by Levi, as you often are, and lean heavily against him, lifting your other arm to join the first around his neck. You feel the pounding of his heart through his chest, mirroring the rhythm of yours where they’re pressed together. Breathing deeply, you inhale the musky scent of perspiration on his skin and, beneath it, the comforting smell of Levi.

You’re unsure how long you stand there, wrapped up in eachother, overlooking the ruins of the cavern and the corpses of fallen soldiers. It’s dark and tragic and a perfectly ruinous representation of all the people who had to die to bring you and Levi together in this moment.

_ No matter how far we may come,  _ you think, burrowing your face in Levi’s neck,  _ we’ve come from the very same beginnings. We are utterly, truly the same. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for tuning in for this update~! Let me know what you think in the comments xx


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a phat update for you all! Please enjoy xx

The months following Historia’s coronation are a time of diaphanous peace. She is looked on kindly by the people, lovingly referred to as “the Cattle-Farming Goddess” after her preference for life in the country over the capital city. You watch from the sidelines as she travels from the Underground to the farthest reaches of the walls to round up orphaned children. You could hardly stifle the tears that pricked the backs of your eyes when news first reached you that the malnourished street rats of your childhood home would be given a second chance at life under the clear blue skies of Historia’s farm orphanage. 

Even more so, however, you are awed by Captain Levi’s devout support of the Queen’s mission — it fills your heart in a way you could never quite put your finger on to see him quietly and ever stoically give back to the place you both so narrowly escaped from. It’s almost like a testimony to what you’ve known to be true of his character from the beginning. Through his unbreakable shell, beneath his hard mask, lies a man of quiet conviction and unshakeable virtue.

“I can’t believe how scarce the Captain’s made himself since Historia’s coronation,” Armin said to you once over lunch in the mess hall.

“Hm,” you’d replied distantly. “He seems to always be in the capital, doesn’t he?”

Armin had nodded, pushing food around on his plate. “He’s really committed to helping Historia acquire resources to get kids out of the Underground.”

A small smile had tugged at your lips, one Armin’s sharp eyes didn’t miss.

“Yeah,” you’d replied, studying your food. “It’s almost like he wants to…reclaim it.” You’d shrugged. “Maybe he wants people like us to feel less ashamed of where we come from.”

Unbeknownst to you, fixated on your plate as you were, Armin had smiled knowingly.

Meanwhile, behind the scenes, preparations for the operation to retake Wall Maria have been in full swing. The paperwork Erwin hands off to you piles higher and higher on your desk; budget bids to the office of the Commander-In-Chief, equipment inventories, and scouting formations scarcely begin to cover the minutiae of military function you barely have the capacity to wrap your head around. The responsibilities quickly stack up and, between the sheer quantity and your weak reading ability, you’re soon getting by on hardly the amount of sleep even Levi allows himself.

Amidst it all you count yourself lucky Commander Erwin took your heated, late-night exchange in stride. Perhaps his lips twitch upwards more seldomly; it’s true he’s not so quick to trade subtle banter. But when you meet his deep blue gaze from beside him in meetings, or over your desk as he hands you paperwork, there’s no resentment. No coldness. If anything, maybe a plaintive regret.

You’re grateful, as always, for Erwin.

And so the time goes by in this way. In the blink of an eye the report lands on your desk that the operation will commence in only two days. Your stomach turns with trepidation and a morbid excitement at the thought of once again venturing beyond the walls.

On the eve of departure you enter the mess hall, already crowded with soldiers, and stake out the table your friends from the 104th are occupying. Armin waves you over and Connie turns to give you a wide smile, one you eagerly return as you make your way over to join them.

“Hey, guys,” you greet the group, sitting heavily on the bench beside Marlowe, one of the new recruits from the other branches. “I guess I’m late?” you ask, noting the half-empty platter of meat on the table. Your mouth begins to water at the sight of it and you eagerly help yourself to a plate.

“Yeah. I assumed you’d already retired for the night, Grandma,” says Jean around a mouthful of food.

Further down the table, Eren snickers. Mikasa shoots him a look he pointedly ignores.

“I’ll admit this is tough on my old bones, Jean-boy,” you tease. “Speaking of which, I’m surprised your mom let you out this late.”

He swallows his food thickly before jabbing his fork in your direction. “Hey, enough with that!” 

You snicker and dig into your meal. _Walls_ , you think as you chew the first morsel, _I never dared dream of something like this as a kid._ You’re reminded of Kristoff and how, when he served, humanity still controlled the territories within Wall Maria; he likely got to experience good food like this even more than you have.

The thought is bittersweet.

“Hey,” you say suddenly, “where’s Sasha?”  
Connie grimaces. “Don’t ask.”

You chuckle and heed his advice.

“I still can’t believe the Survey Corps never got meat,” says Marlowe beside you, the only one enjoying his meal with anything less than vigor.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, waving your hand dismissively and struggling not to shoot him a sideways glance.  
You’re still coming to terms with the idea of an MP giving up a life of luxury and security in the Interior to serve in the Survey Corps. It seems…fishy, to say the least, but if the trend continues you’ll have to overcome your bias eventually. And not to mention it was this bowl-cut kid and his friend who supported Squad Levi against orders to turn them in while you were occupied in the capital.

You sigh through your nose and finish your meal amidst the chatter and excitement of the mess hall.

Across from you, Jean is picking a fight with Eren, poor Armin caught in the crossfire. As soon as it turns to blows, you roll your eyes good-naturedly and decide Mikasa can handle them this time. You stand from the table, eyes scanning the crowd for more familiar faces. Hange’s unkempt ponytail bobs some ways off and, happily, you make your way over to the table she’s sharing with Levi and the other Squad Leaders.

“Squad Leaders,” you greet the table politely once you reach them, “thanks for arranging this.”

Hange smiles and scoots over as you take a seat beside her. “Not at all,” she says, “although it was Lucas’ idea to blow the food budget all in one night.”

From the seat opposite you, the aforementioned Squad Leader smiles sheepishly. You chuckle warmly, deciding not to worry tonight about the bid you’ll have to submit to request makeup for the loss. “I think it was worth it. For morale, you know,” you smile at him.

Levi catches your eye and raises an eyebrow, likely the only one at the table so quick to realize you’ll be the one dealing with the fallout of the night’s extravagance. You shrug your shoulders at him covertly, allowing yourself the chance to appreciate just for a moment how well he knows you.

Across the room, Jean’s and Eren’s fight is drawing attention.

“Looks like something’s started,” says Dirk, turning around to survey the commotion.

Lucas sighs. “And here I told ‘em to behave.”

You smile despite the ruckus, feeling surprisingly content.

When it becomes apparent Jean and Eren won’t give it a rest, you see Levi’s nostrils flare and he stands, making his way over to break up the fight. You gaze after him without realizing you’re doing so, a small smile on your lips.

At your side, Hange follows your gaze.

“You know,” she says to you, “regardless of the pomp and circumstance, tomorrow’s operation could prove to be fatal for many of us.”

You tear your eyes away from Levi to look at Hange. Her expression is serious but, you note, somewhat whimsical as well.

“Come on,” you say lightheartedly, “what are you trying to bring the mood down for?”

She shakes her head and smiles knowingly. “Not trying to bring down the mood,” she tells you, a glint in her eye, “simply stating the obvious.”

She cocks her head, almost imperceptibly, in Levi’s direction. You look over again to see he’s now standing over Eren and Jean, who are both on the ground clutching their stomachs.

You bite your lip, lost in thought, as Jean retches up the meat he’d been savoring not long before.

* * *

The excitement quickly winds down once the fight breaks up. In clumps of twos and threes, soldiers begin clearing their plates and exiting the mess hall. You soon follow suit, feeling distracted and conflicted since Hange dropped her not-so-subtle hint.

As your comrades trickle off to bed you take to pacing the barracks. The halls are quiet and ethereal in the semi-darkness of lantern light, interrupted only by the casual “goodnights” of the few soldiers you encounter.

When it comes down to it, Hange’s absolutely right. You _could_ die tomorrow. So could all your friends. So could Levi, Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, just as you’ve both consciously and subconsciously feared for years now. No one knows for sure where Bertolt, Reiner, or the Beast Titan are but all bets are on Wall Maria, lying in wait. It’s inevitable there will be conflict.

If tonight is truly the last supper, even if it’s just the chance of it, should you not seize the opportunity to finally say the words that have laid heavy on your mind and heart for over three years now?

Your stomach turns over at the thought of it. There’s time still. You could corner him at his office, his quarters, the empty mess hall when he appears for a late night cup of tea. Whenever and wherever it may be, you need to just gird your loins and do it.

But not right now. Your heart is racing and your palms are sweating at the thought alone. No, first you’ll clear your head. Maybe get some fresh air.

Before you know it, you’ve wandered out the door and straight to the stables. Without realizing you’ve made up your mind, you saddle your horse and lead her out to the street. You stroke her mane for a moment, your head still cloudy with musings and doubts and what-ifs. Then, you grip the saddle and hoist yourself up gracefully.

You’re not sure at what point you decide to go to Levi’s house. But somewhere on the streets of Trost, you begin to think of that night he first brought you there. Maybe it’s the clear night sky, the vast expanse of black, and the countless twinkling stars. Or perhaps the briskness in the air, or else just the way your head is so crowded with thoughts of him. Whatever it may be, you find yourself passing through the gate of Wall Rose and, not long after, pulling to a stop on Levi’s street.

Your heart skips a beat; another horse is already tethered out front. You swallow and dismount, tethering the mare beside it. She paws the ground and knickers. You don’t look back as you pass through the gate and take in the sight of the garden, overcome with nostalgia.

Even in the dim light of the moon, you can see that Levi certainly did right by your garden to commission the neighbor he did. It’s neatly tended to, flourishing with herbs and vegetables like nothing you could have hoped for at your own hands. You smile to yourself, as pleased as if Levi has presented you with diamonds or silks.

You take the few remaining steps to the door when you feel something against your leg. You start and look down, your heart swelling at the sight of a tortoiseshell cat curling happily around your ankles.

“Freya?” you gasp.

 _Meow,_ she replies.

You bend down and choke back tears. “I can’t believe it,” you mutter, scooping her up and clutching her to your chest.

She rubs her head against your cheek affectionately and you bury your face in her fur, a few tears escaping.

 _Why am I crying over something as silly as a stray cat?_ you chide yourself. But really, you know why. She wouldn’t keep coming back if no one was feeding her all this time.

After several moments like this, your tears stop falling and you set her down with a pat on the head.

“Sorry you can’t come in, girl,” you tell her, standing up straight. “Levi’s here.”

_Meow._

You wipe your cheeks to confirm they’re dry and enter the house.

It’s exactly as you remember; you could have stepped back in time. The bench under the window, the wooden table and chairs, the cast iron pump at the sink. And, seated at his place at the table, one arm thrown casually over the back of his chair and one leg perched atop the other, is Levi.

You let the door _click_ shut behind you and hang your cloak beside his from the hook on the wall. He looks up, his expression stoic as always, and you realize he’s not at all surprised to see you.

Neither of you say a word. Caught up in reminiscing, you make your way to the pantry and search the shelves. There, where you always kept them, are your preferred tea leaves, the kind you’ve known Levi to enjoy so much. You pull them down and light the stove. You fill the kettle with water from the pump and place it on the burner. While that heats, you take the teapot and two teacups and saucers down from the cupboard, setting them on the countertop with gentle _clinks_. You measure the tea leaves — not too much, not too little — and by now the kettle has just begun to whistle, not yet in earnest, the perfect temperature for the tea. You lift it from the heat and pour it over the leaves into the pot, standing before it as it steeps and relishing the sweet, herbal aroma of the tea.

You feel Levi’s eyes on you the whole time. He watches as you move about the small kitchen as if you had never left, admiring the way the lamplight catches in your hair, the way your skirts swish with your movements, and how your hands flit through your task with practiced, methodical sureness.

When you turn around to set the teacups on the table you make a point not to meet his gaze. You’re not quite sure what you would do, but something tells you the lump in your throat might turn into a sob. And so you set one teacup down before him, one at the place opposite, and study the ceramic as you do so.

You’re just as careful with the direction of your gaze as you pour the tea. Finally, you can avoid it no longer. You set the teapot down on the table and take your seat. Sighing thoughtfully, you slowly lift your eyes to his. Levi never ceased watching you, a deep, heartbreaking sense of melancholy etched into his features.

“Captain,” you breathe, struck by the sight of him and his smooth ivory skin, his piercing gray eyes, as if you’ve never truly seen him before now.

He takes a sip of tea, his eyes fluttering shut when it reaches his lips. Yours goes untouched as you watch him set it back in the saucer and sigh.

“(Y/N),” he says in a low voice. It sends chills down your spine. “I…”

Your breath catches.

“Call me Levi.”

You bite your lip and nod as tears prick the backs of your eyes.

“All right then, Levi,” you whisper.

You lift your cup of tea to your lips and take a sip without really tasting it. For what feels like ages you sit in companionable silence, your heart rate slowing, your emotion ebbing and your mind wandering as you bask in his comforting presence.

“Can you still remember the stale taste of the air in the Underground?” you ask quietly, after some time.

“I’ll remember that taste until the day I die.”

You simply nod, his words ringing true. Eventually, you adjust your position and scoot your chair so that your knees are just brushing Levi’s crossed legs. You take the hand in his lap in both of yours. Hesitantly, as if he’s fighting an instinct, he curls his fingers and returns the gesture.

“Tomorrow, if there’s a battle, we may not survive.”

“Hm,” he hums in acknowledgement.

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as he stares at your clasped hands.

“Levi, there’s something I need to say to you.”

“Is that so?” he questions knowingly, almost mockingly.

He knows what you have to say, just as he knew you would come here tonight, likely before even you did. He knows you.

His eyes rise to meet yours, his face a mask. He blinks slowly, sighing deeply, and you know you don’t need to explain.

“How can you expect to survive battle with your mind occupied by…that?” he asks in a low voice, the desperation thinly veiled to your ears.

You ignore his question. “Please, Levi, it’s me. Can’t you just let your guard down for once? Won’t you talk to me?”

“You’re an idiot if you think I simply ‘have my guard up’,” he replies in the same tone of voice, his expression just as passive. His narrowed eyes, however, suggest you’ve hit a nerve. “It’s impossible to lay your life on the line when your ties to someone else are a constant reminder of your humanity.”

You blink at him as something clicks into place. “You’re afraid,” you breathe, realization dawning on you. “How can you meet all of your enemies head on but run away from your own feelings?”

“What the fuck do you know about my feelings?”

He pulls his hand out from yours and stands. You follow suit and reach up to cup his face in your hands; you won’t let him turn his back on you, not this time.

He resists, turning his face away, angling his shoulders. You don’t let him, stepping forward to close the distance between you and caress his face.

Levi gives in to what you’re sure is a deep-seated longing. As if they have a mind of their own, his arms encircle your waist. You feel him clutching the fabric of your skirt, one hand at the small of your back and one at your hip. Your noses brush against each other, your breaths mingle. You run your fingers over the soft cropped hair beneath the raven tresses, down to his neck, back up to circle the shell of his ear. You can sense with a primitive instinct that he longs to give in to you completely — it’s written in the way he’s clutching you to him, flush against the length of his body.

“You talk about making choices,” you murmur, your lips a hairsbreadth from his. “You say we have to believe we won’t regret the choices we make. Well, that’s what I’m doing here. I have no regrets when it comes to you, Levi.”

Something breaks in him, you see it. His eyebrows furrow and he grimaces, his eyes tightly shut.

“Levi,” you choke out, barely whispering, “please.”

You ache to press your lips to his, to revive the ghost of a memory of the sensation. You yearn to show him, with your body as much as your words, that you’re willing to be there for him, that you always have, in every way.

“(Y/N),” he says, barely above a whisper, “I have regrets. I regret what’s happened to you.” You stare at him, tears welling in your eyes, and he pulls you ever closer. “I’m not running from anything. I came to terms with my feelings years ago.” Your heart races at his words. “When I found you in that shitty tavern I made up my mind that just once I was going to protect someone. And I was going to succeed. Just once I wanted to do right by someone I….” He trails off, his voice thick. “But things have turned out the same as all the rest.” It looks like his next words take great resolve to utter. “I have no say in what happens to you. Whether you live or die is up to no one but you.”

With what looks like great effort he lets you go and, taking your wrists in his hands, forces yours from his face to your sides.

You’re shaking your head, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. “You don’t know what you’re saying. The life I had caged up here was hardly a life at all. The choices you made that got me where I am now were the best that could have been made for me.” You roughly wipe your tears away. “You’ve done more for me than even my own mother would have,” you admit in a cracked voice. “Instead of living in fear of losing each other why shouldn’t we make the most of the time we have?”

“Because that’s not all it is, (Y/N). Why can’t you see that you deserve better? You deserve a man who’s younger and softer and easier to love. I’m fucked up, don’t you get that?”

“So am I, Levi! We’re both as fucked up as they come! And shit, none of that is for you to decide! I—” you gasp for breath, exasperated. “You’re wrong. We’re both pieces of shit. We deserve each other.” 

He stares at you, his eyes tempestuous.

Softer now, you continue. “I don’t want some other, ‘softer’ man.” You swallow back the lump of emotion in your throat and choke out your next words in a whisper. “I want you.”

Your heart pounds loudly in your ears as you wait for him to speak. He’s looking at you with hard, pained eyes. Finally, he turns away. When he speaks his voice is soft and wounded.

“I thought keeping you here, inside the walls and under my watch, you would be safe. But I let myself slip. I was weak. It was stupid and reckless to even entertain those… _feelings_.” He snarls the word as if it has a sour taste. “I decided you never had to know. But this…is so much worse than just you knowing. I’m not worth it, (Y/N). Why won’t you give up on me? I tried so desperately to keep you at arm’s length.”

You blanch. “No, you tried to provoke me, to drive me off. Enough of this self-loathing. Why _wouldn’t_ I push back, to fight to be close to you again? It’s not up to you whether or not l lo—”  
“Shut up,” Levi growls, his voice low and measured but the cords of his neck standing out in stark relief. “Please. Shut. Up.”

“Levi—!”

He slams his fist down on the table, making the teacups rattle.

“This isn’t going to work anymore, Levi,” you tell him, more dejected than angry. “You can’t just get mad and scare me off. You can’t shut me out anymore.” Your voice is rising but you’re still reaching for him, your hand poised to grasp his collar if you just stepped close enough.

“What do you know?” he demands, still leaning on the table, tension radiating from his coiled muscles. You’re just a—”

“Say it,” you snap. “Go on, fucking say it.”

“Just a dirty slut I picked up in a tavern.” He glares. “And now you’re in way over your head.”

You grind your teeth, your jaw clenched and your mouth set in a hard line.

“You know what?” you reply, your voice low and dangerous. “I’m not going to stand here and pretend that doesn’t hurt. But that word doesn’t hold the same power over me it once did. Fine,” you throw your hands up, “I’m a slut from the Underground. But it’s because that’s who I am that I rose the ranks as quickly as I did. It’s because I can act like a whore that Hange and Moblit were able to find your squad and deliver _confirmation_ from Erwin that Rod Reiss was behind Eren’s and Historia’s kidnapping. So _you can’t insult me anymore._ I’m a slut and I’ve never done anything other than spin it to my advantage!”

A charged silence follows your proclamation. You glare at each other, the table between you. You fight the urge to cry again, burying your teeth in your lip to stop its trembling.

You ball your fists at your side and shut your eyes, taking a steadying breath. When you open them, Levi is running a hand down his face, then through his hair, looking haggard.

“Levi,” you say in a shaky voice, “I’ve lost people too. You forget that I also never knew my father. I also had to watch my mother die. I lost two of my only friends when I left the Underground. I—” you choke back a sob, “—I had to learn from Nile Dok, of all people, that Fara died in my place.” Hot tears escape your eyes and stream down your cheeks. “I’m sorry you’ve lived a tragic life, but you’re not on your own anymore.” You take a step towards him, reaching out again. Levi, we’re the _same_ —”

“Get out.”

You freeze, opening and closing your mouth two, three times, but no words come.

You’re not sure what this emotion is that wells up inside you. Suddenly you feel…empty. Your mouth goes dry, your stomach drops and your tears cease.

Levi refuses to look at you, instead fixing his gaze on a spot on the floor. You wait for him to say something, anything. When the stony silence persists, you place your hand over your own heart, as if to offer yourself some semblance of comfort.

The seconds tick by and you know he’s shut you out yet again, regardless of your pleas. He laid himself bare and now his guard is back up, the defenses strong as steel, and you’ll be lucky if he ever again meets your eye, let alone lets you in.

Without a word, you turn to collect your cloak from the hook on the wall. When you leave, you can’t even bring yourself to slam the door behind you.

Instead it gently swings shut with a quiet, resounding _click_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!
> 
> LOL just kidding. I think I'll be sticking to my plan of 32 totally chapters :)
> 
> But god Levi is so ANNOYING. JUST KISS ALREADY omfg


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos on the last chapter <3 I'm sure you're probably sick of me saying it at this point, but your feedback is so encouraging.
> 
> Enjoy the update! xx

You made the ride back to Trost that night feeling more alone than you have in a long time. The following day, you fought any and all thoughts of Levi from your mind, instead throwing yourself into preparing for the operation. You were relieved to find it was easy enough to distract yourself with the anticipation of the expedition gnawing at you, although that hollowness — a feeling of abandonment that followed you all the way from Levi’s kitchen — lingered persistently.

Now, you look out over Shiganshina, the final stretch of Wall Maria ending at the district limits. Beyond that is nothing but rolling hills and boundless plains, stretching endlessly beneath the gray morning sky. Further, past that, is what? Will you ever know? Or are you doomed to die, trapped in confinement? From a life beneath a ceiling to a life within walls, will you ever know what it’s like to live outside the confines of a cage?

The metallic taste of blood sits thickly in your mouth — you’ve chewed your lip so thoroughly the skin has torn. Within you, from the crown of your head down to your littlest toe, ten million insects are swarming, filling your body with an electric charge. Below, the Armored Titan is climbing Wall Maria and dozens of two to three meter Titans are charging the horses. Your instincts are screaming to engage, but Erwin has yet to give his orders. And so you chew your lip and ball your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palms hard enough to puncture the skin and distract from your urge to fight.

Finally, Erwin cries out his orders. You strain your ears to listen — Squads Levi and Hange will take on Reiner; Squads Marlene and Dirk will join Squad Klaus to defend the horses.

You stay rooted to the spot, awaiting your assignment as Executive Officer, praying it will come soon; much longer and you’ll be pulling your own hair from the roots.

“(Y/N),” says Erwin from a few meters off. You turn and step towards him, your legs itching with pent-up energy, and fix your blood-thirsty gaze on him. “You’re with Levi, defending the horses.” His ice blue eyes search your face, reading the determination etched into your features. “Do your worst.”

All you can manage is a curt nod as Erwin turns his attention to Reiner and, unbidden, your eyes dart to Levi. His cloak lifts with the wind and his muscles are taut with anticipation for the impending battle. He meets your eye and, in the back of your mind — through the buzzing — you fully expect him to look away, to deny you one more chance at a connection before you lay your lives on the line.

But to your surprise, he steps towards you, not once looking away. You suddenly feel rooted to the spot, the near-painful itch abating as your attention waives from the Titans.

You watch, your mouth going dry, as he extends his right hand to you — a half-baked peace offering.

“Alastair,” he says, your name heavy with the weight of a million things left unsaid.

You look at his outstretched hand, feeling numb. It occurs to you that Levi knows what he did and he knows this could be the end for both of you. He’s seeking some sort of closure, no matter how tactless it may be of him to do it like this.

You can’t forgive him. Your deaths might be awaiting you on the other side of this wall, you may never see him alive again, but for how long have you sat by waiting for him to realize that you too have been aching for closure?

And yet there’s no denying that something brought you together all those years ago. The red thread of fate determined you wouldn’t be kept apart, not by time, not by class, and thus far not by death. Now, everything is coming to a head, and Levi’s hand is outstretched before you.

So with only a moment’s hesitation, you reach out to grasp his forearm, his hand locking just below your elbow.

“Captain,” you say, your voice sure and ringing with the last shreds of coherence you can muster.

And then you’re off. You release him and launch from the wall, Levi hot at your heels. You fly down to the buildings below, the electric charge in your limbs amplifying to wrack through your core. At your hips, you feel your gear zipping and whirring, one of the only sensations cutting through your reverie. That, and the burning of your muscles, the wind whipping against your face and through your hair, and the tension and release of your blades sinking into flesh only to break free again.

You don’t know how much time passes before you reach your physical limit but, much like in the battle that took Erwin’s arm, your body reaches a point where it must rest. The city rushes back into focus as your boots skid backwards across a rooftop. You come to a stop against someone’s back, your shoulders pressed against theirs and your blades held up in a defensive _X_. Your chest heaves as you fight to catch your breath.

“(Y/N)!” cries the person behind you.

It’s Levi.

Around you, horses are whinnying anxiously and soldiers are battling for their lives. You’re reminded strikingly of your first fight, during the struggle for Trost. You were fresh out of the Cadet Corps then, had never even seen a Titan before that day. It’s suddenly baffling to you how that was mere months ago.

Levi’s strong shoulders at your back steady you. You take several deep breaths, struggling to ease your racing heart. Ever so slightly you lean into him as you do so, realizing how assuring his presence is in the midst of chaos.

“Don’t you dare fucking die,” he demands, the sound of his voice reaching your ears as if they were a drink of cool, clear water on your lips.

Then, you stagger backwards as he takes off again, the sound of his lines seeming far away, as if you’re listening through water. Already, the haze is settling back over you, your instincts telling you this brief chance to recuperate was enough.

And so you continue to fight.

* * *

The next time you come to you can barely manage to stand. You collapse on all fours on the ground, hardly registering where you are. Your face, hair, and clothes are wet with fast evaporating Titan blood and, by the time you’ve caught your breath, it’s already gone.

You lift your head and begin to regain feeling in your itching limbs. You sense no Titans in the immediate vicinity but on the other side of the wall, in Shiganshina, are Reiner, Bertolt, and Eren. Reiner’s energy is weak, hardly a hum, but dead ahead is a raging swarm from the Beast Titan. Buildings and debris explode nearby, a result of his assault on the area.

You look around and take in a scattering of terrified recruits and skittish horses. Clearing your throat, you spit onto the pavement and heave one last steadying breath before standing slowly, swaying on weak legs.

You lick your lips and wander towards the wall, away from the panicking recruits. Levi and Erwin are there, straight ahead, and what you begin to catch of their conversation sends a cold stab of fear through your heart. The situation is hopeless, it seems, any means of escape having been seized early on. The two men glance your way as you approach but don’t cease their conversation to acknowledge you. You stand a meter or so off, struggling to wrap your head around what they’re saying.

“...sacrifice their lives…”

It dawns on you that Erwin is plotting a suicide charge.

_No…surely there’s another way._

“...lead them to their deaths…”

You can hardly believe what you’re hearing.

_No._

“Give up your dreams and die for us,” Levi tells Erwin, crouching before him. Erwin is seated on an old crate, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Lead the recruits straight into hell and I’ll take down the Beast Titan.”

“Erwin, you _can’t_ ,” you cry, staggering forward.

You gape at him and note this is the first time you’ve seen his shoulders slumped in defeat. He’s denying himself not only a chance at life, but a chance at the truth he so craves. Memories rush to your head, of the way he was and has been since you first laid eyes on him — commanding, composed, charming and warm. Images flicker across your mind’s eye; the nights you spent meeting in secret on the training grounds, the twitch of his lips, the way he entertained your subtle, coy banter. With a shaky breath you see him as he was the night before his arrest — comforting, kind, hooded eyes, sure lips. Were you wrong to turn your back on him? Would you have chosen differently if you had known he would feel compelled to throw his own life away, all for a far-off shot at taking down the enemy?

You swallow thickly.

Surely he wouldn’t unless there was no other way.

Levi stands, refusing to look away from Erwin to you, as if he’s afraid of what he might see in your expression. Erwin, however, trains his gaze on your beaten and battered figure, the resolve written so clearly on his face that any other arguments flee your mind.

_This is it._

Levi turns, quick as a whip, and grabs the front of your shirt, shaking you roughly.

“Snap out of it, idiot,” he snarls, a storm raging in his eyes. “Let _go_. No emotions are getting in the way, you hear me?”  
A dry sob shudders through you. You grab his wrists and wrestle his hands from your shirt, stepping back and spitting again onto the pavement — the sour taste in your mouth is so wretched it takes effort not to vomit.

“ _Fine_ ,” you snarl, throwing your hands up and feeling your brow furrow with anger and despair. “Fucking fine,” you repeat. 

Erwin doesn’t give either of you the chance to say any more.

“(Y/N), rendezvous with the offensive in Shiganshina. Support whoever’s left and take down Reiner and Bertolt.”

You blanch. “You’re ordering me to flee? I’m useless against Titan shifters, you know this! I’ll support Levi against the Beast, I can take down the line of defensive Titans while he—”

“(Y/N).”

Your name alone is an ironclad command on Erwin’s lips. The emotion rising in your chest shrivels as he all but stamps out any flare of resistance you might muster.

“Obey the chain of command,” he tells you simply.

You turn to Levi for help, your expression hollow and faintly defiant as you silently beg him to support you. This chance is what you’ve sought since those lonely, empty days spent wallowing in your own thoughts at his house, so long ago. Finally, you have a chance to prove you can make a difference, to apply yourself somewhere you can demonstrate the extent of your abilities, to accomplish what your brother was never allowed the opportunity to. You hope and pray Levi understands this, without a word passing between you.

“Damn it,” he snarls.

He stalks towards you with a grim look of determination on his face and stops only once you’re toe to toe. He raises one hand to the back of your head and fists it in your hair, tugging just hard enough to hurt, and presses his forehead against yours so you’re forced to meet his stare. His breath whispers against your face.

“Do this.” You open your mouth to fight but he talks over you. “You’re valuable. I need to be the one to take down the Beast and you are going to be the one to ensure this is not the end of the Survey Corps.” You blink at him, searching aimlessly for the words to defend yourself. “You’re not fleeing,” he says, “Erwin has made the call. You’re needed in Shiganshina.”

His eyes are hard and penetrating but, not quite concealed beneath that, he’s pleading. Pleading with you, at long last, to leap forward and make a difference — even if it’s not in the way you would choose, even if it means stifling your own willfulness and trusting your Commander — instead of holding you back. This is not a futile attempt to rescue you from yourself. After all this time, Levi is accepting that you need to do more than cower in a cage, that you don’t need him to protect you. He’s finally pushing you out instead of locking you in.

He’s begging you as your Captain and perhaps as something else too. _Do something. You’re needed elsewhere._

You grit your teeth and shove him away. Tears threaten to spill as you look first at Levi, shattered but determined, and then at Erwin, a strong leader and tortured man completely resigned to his fate.

You feel as if you could scream, cry, pull your hair. But you don’t. You allow yourself one last look at each of them, refusing to acknowledge this is the end, likely for all of you, and dash off before you break down completely.

Tears blur your vision as you fly upwards towards Shiganshina. You shake your head and blink them away, your anchors sinking into the highest points of the wall and propelling you up and over. You’re poised to hit the top at a sprint in a practiced maneuver, wasting no time and launching down over the other side to survey the situation Hange’s and Levi’s squads are in.

You hover in the air, suspended for a moment by your momentum.

_Marleyan._

You freeze, your years of training and experience abandoning you. The voice is resounding and unfamiliar, reverberating in your skull as if it came from within you. You hit the top of the wall hard, tumbling several meters before rolling to a stop on your side with your cloak twisted around you.

You turn the foreign word over in your mind as you sit up and rise to one knee. _Marleyan_ , the voice had said. It was strange, male, and without a doubt inside your head.

 _Alastair_ , it comes again.

Your head snaps up and you look north, in the direction of the Beast Titan. Despite being well over fifteen meters tall he is only a speck on the horizon. Dancing behind your eyes, so consuming it nearly blocks out the scene before you, is the image of a man. Like your experience with Rod Reiss, you know you’ve never seen him before, and you know with as much certainty that this is the shifter who possesses the Beast Titan. He’s tall and broad, with shaggy blond hair, a full beard and round glasses. Something in the shape of his face, or perhaps the set of his brow, looks vaguely familiar.

_Your abilities are as potent as they say._

“Who are you?” you choke out, knowing there’s no need to shout, wondering if you need to speak aloud at all.

 _Who are you?_ He repeats the question back, his voice as crystal clear as your own thoughts.

You watch, shell-shocked, as the suicide charge on the Beast begins. From where you’re crouched on the wall, you see him wind his arm, then the plumes of debris rise from the places the shattered rock hits. Your shoulders slump and tears well in your eyes.

“Stop,” you gasp. “Please.”

_Who taught you to hone your skills?_

“No one!” you cry out. “I never wanted this! It’s like it’s a part of me.” You force out the last sentence in a whisper.

 _Ah,_ comes the voice. _Then Reiner’s greatest mistake was turning you in instead of taking you out._

Your eyes widen and you focus on the figure in the distance. _Reiner,_ you think, _turned me in? After the struggle for Trost?_

 _Yes,_ the voice replies to your inner thoughts, _I’m surprised you didn’t reach that conclusion on your own._

You crouch there, mouth agape, feeling the rough, weather-worn surface of the wall on your knee, through the fabric of your pants. Unfamiliar thoughts, so alien they seem to belong to someone else, rush through your head fast enough to make you dizzy.

“Eldian,” you say the unfamiliar word so softly it’s more breath than sound.

On the horizon, the Beast Titan’s defense is crumbling and he doesn’t even see. The Titans fall, one by one like dominoes, as Levi uses them to get to the Beast.

 _You’ve deduced so much from this minimal contact alone?_ He questions, thankfully not picking up on what you’ve seen of his defenses. _You may prove to be a formidable enemy of Marley yet, even so far removed from the treachery of your ancestors._

You lower your gaze to study the surface of the wall, juggling the strange thoughts hammering at your brain. The charge is all but wiped out. Levi is close.

“Marley,” you repeat the word, “and Eldia.” Your voice lifts slightly at the end, posing the statement as if it were a question.

The man’s image dissipates in your mind, the world around you coming back into perfect clarity. The connection has broken.

You stand on shaking legs and watch as the Beast Titan falls.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm is anyone else FREAKING OUT over how close we are to the season 4 premier?? LET'S GOOO have an update to celebrate, short and sweet (or not so sweet...)

You don’t know how long you stand on the wall, staring north, stupefied.

Over and over again you will your feet to move, to follow Erwin’s final command of you, but you can hardly blink let alone operate your gear.

The images flooding your mind are of people and places you’ve never seen before, of names and words and Titans far beyond the reaches of your imagination.

And then suddenly it stops.

You gasp loudly, hunching forwards with your hands on your knees. You breathe heavily, gulping down air as if your head had just been held underwater. For several beats you struggle to organize your thoughts, to analyze what you’ve just seen, but there’s so much and almost no sense behind it. You play your conversation with the Beast over and over again in your head, scrambling to decipher its meaning but so overwhelmed you can hardly separate what was said from what existed only in your mind.

All you know for certain is that whatever connection was established between you and the Beast Titan uncovered more than anything you’ve been exposed to by another Titan shifter.

You rake a hand through your hair, pushing the tangled strands away from your face and standing up straight. Now, with the wherewithal to at least control your own thoughts, you turn on your heel and propel yourself off the wall. Roughly half a league off, southeast of you, you spot the quadruple Titan, carrying cargo for the enemy. You hurry towards it, spotting the small figures of a few of your comrades with it on the rooftop. Your instincts confirm the obvious — the quadruple Titan is intelligent and, in his human form on its back, the Beast Titan is quickly recovering from Levi’s attack.

You push your gear as hard as you dare; you’re running on fumes. Even still, you’re hardly halfway to them when the quadruple Titan takes off, onto the streets of the district. _Shit,_ you curse yourself, pushing your gear that much harder.

When you reach the rooftop your heart is hammering in your chest. You freeze where you land, knees bent to brace against the impact, as you survey the scene before you. Levi is there, covered in blood you pray belongs only to the Titans he slayed. Eren and Mikasa are turned to him, both standing coiled in offensive postures. Your mind races to piece the scene together as your eyes fall first on the burnt and blackened body of… Armin? Is that what Eren just said? Then to Bertolt’s limbless, unconscious form. And, lastly, you take in the sight of Floch, one of the new recruits who surely should have died in the charge, crouched beside the battered, comatose body of Erwin.

Everything around you drops away. You’re dimly aware of a scuffle; Levi has the injection that could turn a human into a Titan. _So Bertolt will be the sacrifice,_ you think, falling to your knees beside Erwin’s body, opposite Floch. You put a hand flat on his chest, feeling the faintest flutter of a heartbeat. Eren and Mikasa want the injection to go to Armin, you realize, your eyes trained on Erwin’s face.

_That can’t be right_ , you think, picturing Armin’s kind smile, his inquisitive blue eyes. You feel almost no remorse, wrapped up as you are in the idea of bringing Erwin back from the very threshold of death’s door.

You look up only when Floch stands. He’s talking but you don’t hear what he’s saying over the sound of your own pounding heart. Mikasa has Levi pinned down and you realize she’s trying to force the injection from his hand.

“Hey,” you try to say, but your voice is so hoarse you can only mouth the word.

Your hand remains on Erwin’s chest as you watch, as if through a foggy window, as Hange appears — Sasha, Jean, and Connie in tow — and wrestles Mikasa off of Levi.

The air is thick with tension. Emotions are high. You can’t sort out one rational explanation for the injection to go to Armin instead of Erwin, though you know for a fact there are countless. Armin is as intelligent, calculating and capable as Erwin, but you’ll be damned if you admit that to yourself, kneeling over the Commander’s near-lifeless body as you are.

Mikasa screams.

Your head throbs.

Levi takes out the injection.

Eren says something about the ocean.

_The ocean?_ You wonder vaguely. An image comes to mind — someone else’s memory — of an endless expanse of blue. You taste salt on your tongue and in your nose.

You screw your eyes shut, blocking it all out. The only thing you cling to is the feel of Erwin’s heartbeat beneath your palm, as faint and delicate as the batting of a butterfly’s wings.

“Troops, clear the area!” Levi cries. “Erwin will turn into a Titan and eat Bertolt!”

You sigh with relief, feeling the absurd urge to laugh. You realize for the first time that your face is wet with tears. Slowly, you lift your gaze to meet Levi’s and sense a silent acknowledgement from him — you can stay. He takes Floch’s place opposite you and rolls up Erwin’s sleeve, placing the syringe over the crook of his arm.

Your ears strain for each of Erwin’s rattling breaths.

Levi turns, his eyes resting on Armin.

“Levi,” you croak. You’re so choked by emotion that it scrapes out scarcely above a whisper. Nonetheless, he again looks your way. You clear your throat and inhale shakily.

_What?_ you demand silently.

He’s going to give it to Armin.

_No._

“ _Levi!_ ” His name rips from your chest, your throat straining. He turns away, taking a step towards Armin’s scarred body. “Levi,” you sob, fresh tears falling, “give Erwin the serum.” You gasp for breath, your hands clutching Erwin’s shirt. “Don’t do this!” You swallow thickly. Levi ignores you, each step he takes towards Armin injecting your chest with a shot of fear. A sob tears through you.“Levi, we need him! Not humanity.” You stare at his back. He’s stopped, holding the injection over Armin’s body. “ _Fuck_ humanity. _We_ need him, Levi. You and I. Neither of us would be anything if it weren’t for Erwin,” you cry with loud, heaving sobs. “Don’t fucking kill him, Levi!”

You can do nothing but watch as Levi crouches down and pierces Armin’s blackened flesh with the syringe. You cry out wordlessly, your tears falling from your face and onto Erwin’s shirt.

Your cries cover the sound of Erwin’s final, shaky breath.

* * *

On top of Wall Maria, you find yourself once again gazing out over Shiganshina. This time, however, your mind is devoid of ponderings of what lies outside the walls. You can hardly bear the thought of a world where Erwin led hundreds of soldiers to their deaths, leaving only ten behind as humanity’s wings. 

But that’s exactly what he did. 

The ache inside you is raw and hollow.

Floch is relentless in his search for survivors. On the opposite end of the wall, he peers into a telescope, squinting out over the territories the Survey Corps reclaimed at the steepest price. Armin is barely able to sit up on a cot beside Sasha, who has yet to come to. Jean is seated beside them, his expression mirroring yours. Hange — or rather, Commander Hange — is leading Levi, Eren, and Mikasa to Eren’s childhood home to search his father’s basement for clues of the outside world.

_Answer to (Y/N),_ she had said before departing. But all you can do is sit, your feet dangling off the edge of the wall, with nothing left inside you to scrape together and use to lead this pitiful band of survivors. You’re reminded of your encounter with the Beast and realize that much of what you learned is likely to coincide with whatever secrets Dr. Jaeger kept concealed for so long.

Now, however, you can’t bring yourself to contemplate these mysteries. All you can do is sit here, at the very edge of your world, and wallow in your hurt. _What was it all for?_ you ask yourself again and again. _Is this what I fought so hard for? All those years I collected pennies, fighting tooth and nail to escape the pit of the Underground, I thought I was chasing after Kris. I thought I was redeeming my family’s name. But all I’ve walked into is a new life with old troubles; to watch the people I love die while I am spared._

Footsteps approach from your left. When you manage to look up, Jean is sitting beside you. Your dry, bloodshot eyes rake over his tired face and the makeshift sling his wounded arm is in.

Neither of you speak for some time.

“I had a feeling you’d be pretty broken up over it,” he says finally, his eyes, like yours, trained on the horizon.

You brush away the strands of hair that the cool breeze blows in your face. “You’ve always been good at reading a situation.”

“You did love him, then.” It’s not a question.

You shut your eyes, blocking out the view. You wish you could block out your memories. Yours, and the others’.

“Yes, I suppose I did,” you murmur, feeling like your mind is somewhere far off, far beyond the wall, in someone else’s body. “But not in the way he wanted me to.”

You picture the father you never knew, looking a lot like Kristoff, the only way you’ve ever been able to imagine him. It’s quite possible, you realize with a pang of self-loathing, that you found in Erwin the father figure you had been seeking ever since your brother left. He was dependable and constant, someone you counted on to always have faith in you. And so willing to give himself to you, unconditionally.

You open your eyes to find Jean has turned your way. You wonder if he can sense this feeling of disgrace that sits in the pit of your stomach.

_It doesn’t matter_ , you tell yourself, forcing the feeling down. _He’s dead._

Who do you have now? What are you left with?

_Levi._

Once again, you let your eyes flutter shut.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, we are BACK. Please enjoy!!

“(Y/N).”

Tiredly, you lift your red-rimmed eyes from the floorboard you were staring at, not really seeing a thing. Hange is standing at the entrance to the room, her eyes invisible behind the glare in her glasses.

“Come on, you need to go. Jean told me you sat here all night.”

“I…” your voice cracks around the syllable. You clear your throat and try again. “I wouldn’t have gotten any sleep either way.”

Hange sighs and shuts the door, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. You blink at her and realize how tired and haggard she looks — her shoulders are slumped and there are dark shadows under her eyes. Surely you look just as bad — likely worse — after a sleepless night spent upright in a hard wooden chair.

She doesn’t say anything for a minute. Instead, she simply stands there, her eyes resting on the shape of Erwin’s body on the bed where it’s concealed by a thin sheet.

“He’s a bastard, isn’t he?” she deadpans, her expression deathly serious.

You blink at her again before replying. “Was,” you correct.

You lock eyes and Hange is the first to crack — she barks out a single, sardonic laugh. You follow suit, chuckling low and sad as more tears threaten to fall.

“I suppose,” you begin, wiping your eyes, “I was living in this delusion that if I left the Underground I wouldn’t go through this anymore. People drop like flies down there, you know. Hunger, crime, sickness.” You pause, your voice growing quiet. “Suicide.” Hange’s face is serious again. “But it’s all the same, above ground or below.”

“No,” Hange tells you, “not for everyone. You’re just in the wrong line of work.”

You smirk again before a shadow passes over your features. “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I? I can imagine what the rest are saying about me.” You sigh. “It must seem like I’ve lost it.”

She shakes her head and steps forward to rest a hand on your shoulder. “Not at all. We’re all processing the events of the battle in our own ways.” She swallows thickly and you look up at her face — her eyes are glossy and her lips are taut, the only signs she’s suffering as much as you are, if not more. “We lost a lot of good soldiers.”

You let your gaze fall back to the bed, this time thinking of Moblit. You wish you could summon the words to tell Hange you understand how it must feel to lose him. Nothing, however, comes to you.

“We did,” is all you manage.

Hange’s hand falls from your shoulder and she resumes her stance against the wall. “Levi is worried about you.”

You scoff. “Don’t make me laugh. He would never say that to you.”

“You forget how long we’ve known each other, Levi and I,” she replies matter-of-factly. “He doesn’t need to say it for me to know.”

Your chin falls to your chest and you sigh, roughly rubbing at your eyes as if you could wipe the exhaustion away. “I’m sick of Levi and all his shit,” you grumble darkly.

You can almost  _ feel _ Hange’s eyebrows shoot up. “Is that so?” is all she offers.

“In the interest of transparency, Commander,” you say, standing stiffly for the first time in hours, “you should know Levi and I were more than just acquaintances prior to my enlistment in the Cadet Corps.”

“You’re really not giving me any credit today, (Y/N),” Hange replies, almost smiling.

You give her a questioning look and follow her out of the room, quietly and respectfully pulling the door shut behind you. She leads you down the hall and you know to follow, waiting for her to elaborate.

She stops before a wide window, the new morning light shining through and reflecting off her glasses.

“It took me all of forty-eight hours after your hearing to force the truth out of him,” says Hange, relaxing against the windowsill.

You follow suit, biting your lip. “It was nice of you guys to fill me in,” you tell her sarcastically, somewhat wounded.

“Don’t think of it like that,” she placates you. “Levi didn’t want you expecting any special treatment.”

You roll your eyes, feeling positively fed up with Levi acting like your puppetmaster.

“Hey, in his defense, I agreed with that. I hardly knew a thing about you, other than what I heard from him.” She looks straight ahead, at the wall across the hall. “Which, as I’m sure you can imagine, wasn’t much.”

“Hm,” you hum distractedly. “How much, exactly, did he…let you in on?”

“Oh, the bare minimum,” says Hange in a voice that says  _ duh _ , “but I learned years ago to read between the lines with him.”

You nod, taking that to mean she pretty much surmised the whole sorry tale.

“At that point we had all known there was a woman for a long time.”  
Your head continues bobbing up and down. You assume “we” refers to the veterans in their circle, most of whom are now deceased.

“I confronted him about it, you know, after dinner the other night.”

Hange looks at you but you keep your eyes trained straight ahead.

“I thought you might,” she says. “Didn’t go well?”

“Could’ve been worse,” you shrug. “Well,” you go on, reconsidering, “maybe it would’ve been worse if the house had burned down around us.”

“That bad?”

You simply nod.

Hange’s comforting hand finds its way back to your shoulder. “At the risk of preaching to the choir, please remember it’s hard to find the energy to direct into those things when we lead the lives we do.”

“Hange,” you sigh her name and run a hand down the length of your face, exasperated, “do you know how many years it’s been since he forced _his_ way into _my_ life?” She looks at you, knowing you don’t expect her to answer. “ _Three_. More than three! I’ve been putting up with his games for so long. ‘Humanity’s Strongest’?” you question in a mocking tone, lifting your hands to create air quotes around the title. They then drop to your sides and ball into fists. “More like Humanity’s Biggest Coward.”

You push yourself off the sill and spin around to face her. She looks content letting you get it all off your chest. “You said it’s hard to direct energy into this? Fine. It’s getting hard for me, too. I think after three years I’ll find somewhere  _ else  _ to channel my efforts. Maybe,” you scowl, “some _ one _ else.”

If there were something kickable in the vicinity your boot would be on it in a flash.

Hange lifts a hand to her chin thoughtfully, her tired eyes slipping from your face to rest on the wall behind you.

Suddenly, the tension slides from your shoulders and your fists unfurl as you’re overcome with shame.

“Hange,” you say, unable to meet her eye, “I’m sorry. Now is not the time to be going on about something so trivial.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t be silly. I brought it up, after all. Your love life is a welcome escape from the issues I’ve been plagued with since we got back.”

You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “I’m glad for that, I guess,” you tell her, realizing you’ve also been distracted from your darker thoughts since Levi came up.

“I wish I had some wisdom for you,” she says, rising from her perch on the windowsill and slinging an arm over your shoulders, “but that runt’s a tough nut to crack.”

You smirk, comforted by the jest.

“Now, however, is the perfect time for you to take a shower and have something to eat. Our interview’s in an hour, all right?”

“Yeah,” you mutter gloomily, your stomach rumbling at the mention of food, “I’ll meet you in your office then.”

“I look forward to it,” says Hange, but the words lack spunk. “I get the impression your report will be valuable.”

You simply nod, your mind a mile away, in the mess hall.

* * *

_ Autumn 850 _

_ Survey Corps Operational Report Section 008 _

_ Examiner: Commander Hange Zoë _

_ Subject: Executive Officer (Y/N) (L/N) Alastair _ _   
_ _ Transcription by Private Armin Arlert _

_ HANGE: (Y/N), as you know, Dr. Jaeger concealed detailed records of the Eldian-Marleyan conflict in his home in Shiganshina. _

_ ALASTAIR: Yes, I am aware. _

_ H: He details, across these three books you see here, the secret of the Titans, his personal past, and the world outside the walls. _

_ A: Yes. You graciously allowed me the chance to read them. _

_ H: The Alastair name appears briefly in the context of the secret of the Titans. According to Grisha Jaeger, the Alastairs are a clan of Marleyans born under mysterious circumstances as the natural enemy of the Titans. The myth  _ — _ or, if you prefer, history  _ — _ surrounding the clan is not as detailed as that of the Titan shifters. However, it outlines certain traits the Alastair clan is almost guaranteed to pass down by blood including but not limited to: going undetected by Titans, that is to say, Alastairs are not the natural prey of Titans like all other humans are; identifying Titan shifters by sight; acquiring the memories of deceased Alastairs; communicating with a member of the Eldian royal family telepathically by means of touch. Does any of this ring true? _

_ A: Yes, although that’s not all entirely accurate. The first point, regarding Alastairs and their immunity to Titan detection, has been proved by myself and by my brother, Kristoff, prior to his death in the year 845. The second is hard to explain, but saying I can identify Titan shifters by sight is not correct. It’s more like a sixth sense. If there is a shifter nearby I can feel it instinctually. _

_ H: If, for example, you were blindfolded, could you point me to a Titan shifter if there were one nearby? _

_ A: Yes, without question. I could also tell you how strong they were. For instance when the Armored Titan was on the brink of death in Shiganshina, his energy was more of a hum than an electric current. On the contrary, the Beast Titan, who is indisputably the strongest of the shifters I have encountered, was like a swarm of locusts, even leagues away. _

_ H: What is the geographic radius of this instinct? _ _   
_ _ A: I couldn’t say. Ten, fifteen leagues, at least if we’re talking about the Beast. Slightly less in terms of Eren, Armin, or the Female Titan. _

_ H: When did you first experience this sixth sense? _ _   
_ _ A: When I first encountered the Titan shifters, in the Cadet Corps. I thought I was losing my mind, except a deeper part of me knew I wasn’t. That relates to my next point about what Dr. Jaeger said about identifying shifters by sight  _ — _ when I touch them, skin to skin, I can see their Titan forms. _

_ H: You’re kidding. _

_ A: I experienced it for the first time with Eren, then confirmed it when Reiner and Bertolt were under suspicion of being shifters after the battle at Castle Utgard. I took Reiner’s hand and saw the Armored Titan. That’s how I knew to alert you on top of Wall Rose, just before he and Bertolt changed and took Eren captive. _

_ H: Right. You reported a watered-down version of this back then. _

_ A: Yes, I did. _

_ H: You said “a deep part of you” knew you weren’t insane. Can you elaborate on that? _

_ A: Yes, and it ties directly into the connection I have with past relatives I never knew. These things I experience  _ — _ I would compare them to the “paths” Eren’s predecessor describes in Dr. Jaeger’s account of his past, although they’re not exactly the same. I suspected before enlisting in the Cadet Corps that I could fight Titans without risk of being eaten because by that point I knew my brother had been executed for possessing that same trait. That seed, it seems, was enough for me to tap faintly into the Alastair connection and trust my instincts, even if I couldn’t explain it. _

_ H: But that’s not a vision or memory. _

_ A: No, it’s not, but I have experienced “visions and memories” that simply before. The first time was at Castle Utgard. As soon as I laid eyes on the ruins I was overwhelmed with memories of it that didn’t belong to me. _

_ H: How did you know they weren’t your memories? Is it possible you had been there as a child and didn’t realize? _

_ A: No, it’s not possible. I never once left the Underground until I was seventeen. Furthermore, the visions I had of the castle were of a time when it was in peak condition, maybe even newly built, and bustling with residents and staff. To put it simply, I saw it the way it was long before you or I were ever born. _

_ H: And you’re sure it was no hallucination? _

_ A: I’m positive. It’s happened several times since then. _

_ H: I’m curious about how you said you’ve experienced “visions and memories that simply before.” Is there something more complicated than visions and memories? _

_ A: Yes, absolutely. A lot of what I go through cannot be described in such basic terms. It’s, like I’ve said, an instinct or sixth sense. _ _   
_ _ H: So this is still uncharted territory for you. _

_ A: Yes, but not as much so since I encountered the Beast Titan. _

_ H: Explain. _

_ A: It has to do with the last point you mentioned; communicating with a member of the royal family by touch. Eren’s half-brother, Zeke, is a descendant of the Fritz royal family on his mother’s side. I never touched him, but while he was in his Titan form he communicated with me from leagues away, without speaking. _

_ H: Telepathically? _ _   
_ _ A: Yes, I suppose. It was like his voice was coming from inside my head. It’s strange because we never made physical contact, like Dr. Jaeger wrote we would have needed to. But I also sensed that he is an incredibly strong Titan shifter. It makes me wonder if the royal bloodline has varying potency beyond other Eldians’. _

_ H: We can safely assume that based on the Reiss family’s dedication to keeping the Founding Titan in the royal family that their bloodline is unique. _

_ A: Yes, of course. Something else I encountered with both Zeke and Rod Reiss — I could see their human forms without touching them. It was the same as with Reiner and Eren, but in reverse. _

_ H: Further strengthening the theory surrounding the potency of the royal bloodline. _

_ A: Yes, exactly. _

_ H: This is remarkable. The only thing we haven’t been able to clarify is how the Alastair clan wound up on Paradis with the Eldians. _

_ A: Actually, I can tell you. _ _   
_ _ H: Oh? How? _

_ A: When I made contact with the Beast Titan, something about it untapped more memories. I saw things, mainly places and Titan shifters, from times long past. I saw a lot of things from outside the walls, too, including the ocean. _

_ H: So Dr. Jaeger definitely didn’t fabricate that? _ _   
_ _ A: Definitely not. And I learned that the Alastair family alive a century ago opposed Marley’s persecution of Eldians and the forced segregations, so they elected to pledge their support to King Fritz and defend Paradis against the Titan shifters Marley controlled. _

_ H: So they were turncoats? Opposing their own people? Isn’t that hard to believe? _ _   
_ _ A: For me, no. It’s hard not to see memories through the eyes of my ancestors and not understand their sense of justice. Not to mention the safety they were guaranteed from Marley after speaking out against the motherland. _

_ H: So how did your family fall so far from grace? _

_ A: King Fritz betrayed the Alastairs. The Wallist beliefs were planted in our society by the royal family to strengthen the peoples’ belief in the power of the walls. Why would the walls, gifts from God, need mere men to defend them? We were cast aside as a statement: the walls were crafted by God and will never fall. _

_ H: What a tragic turn. It closely parallels the struggles the Ackerman clan faced. _

_ A: Yes, without a doubt. _

_ H: Is it possible there is any relation to the Ackermans? _

_ A: I highly doubt it. If the Ackermans are Eldians who resulted from Titan science then there is likely no relation to natural-born Marleyans. In addition, nothing I’ve seen since accessing this knowledge has suggested it. _

_ H: Understood. Is there anything else you feel the need to disclose? _ _   
_ _ A: Yes, two things. First, I think it’s worth noting that in the presence of Titans, especially Titan shifters, I almost lose control of my body. _

_ H: Like you’re paralyzed? _

_ A: No, like I black out and only wake up when my body is too worn out to fight more. I can resist it, but it’s nearly painful to do so. I crave a fight and my body takes over. It’s like a drug. _

_ H: Fascinating. I would love the opportunity to study this more closely. _

_ A: Of course. It never really occurred to me how out of the ordinary it was until reading Dr. Jaeger’s histories. _

_ H: Understandable. You mentioned a second point you would like to address? _

_ A: Yes. I know the Assembly had my father and brother murdered for nothing more than being born Alastairs. I know new officers were appointed to the Assembly and, under Queen Historia’s reign, the Alastairs and Ackermans can expect no further formal persecution. But I want it on the record that I, like my father and his father before him, know who the Alastairs are and what we stand for. The Alastair name is synonymous with justice and I won’t sit idly by and watch any human anywhere be persecuted for being born the way they are. _

_ H: Thank you, (Y/N). _

_ A: No, Commander, thank you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So with this chapter we are incredibly close to the end of ACBS. And honestly, after watching the season four premier...I'm feeling kind of inspired to keep it going? I dunno, does that make me crazy?? This fic was only supposed to follow canon through the end of season three but......
> 
> Would anyone keep reading if we were to follow you and Levi post time-skip? Maybe bump this bad boy up to forty chapters?? Let me know in the comments!
> 
> P.S. - I hope the interview with Hange tied up any loose ends on the whole special abilities thing. Could I do any better at clarifying? I am open to making edits!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Boy have I got an update for you. I've read all your comments and promise I'll answer them soon, I was just too excited to get this chapter out. This is the longest chapter so far...you'll see why. Enjoy, xo

Your bedroom is awash with candlelight. Shadows dance on the walls in time with the flickering flames. A muggy breeze flows through the open window, thick with the coming rain. You stand naked at your desk, peering at your reflection in your hand mirror.

Slowly, you sweep your body with the mirror, twisting to catch every inch of skin in the glass. You study your breasts, your hips, thighs and abdomen, prodding each of them with the fingers of your free hand. The changes your body has undergone over the last several years have suddenly become fascinating to you. You think back to the sharp angles and sallow skin you saw on yourself when you lived in the Underground, eventually replaced with a fuller, more womanly shape when you were well fed and largely stationary as Levi’s housekeeper. Now, your body has adapted to the trials you put it through as a soldier, any sharp bones or plumpness long gone, nothing but hard muscle in their place.

A crack of thunder breaks your reverie. The ensuing flash of lightning illuminates the room in a bath of white light, throwing your figure into sharp relief. Outside, rain begins falling in sheets, hammering against the roof like the hooves of a thousand little horses and blowing onto the sill of your open window. You set the mirror face down on the desk before climbing over your bed to slam the window shut.

Sighing, you sit on the mattress with your legs folded beneath you and let the sound of the rain lull you into a pensive state, your mind wandering where it will.

It drifts to the events of the past several days, lingering on the memorial held for the fallen Scouts. You had mainly kept to yourself, finding it difficult to be around your friends and comrades when your thoughts were so dark and tumultuous.

The whispers of the “heroes of the walls” that seemed to follow you everywhere were haunting more than gratifying. At that, your eyes dart to the bolo tie on your desk, the sight alone filling you with disquiet.

Eventually, however, you had accepted that you were not the only one feeling the losses of the Survey Corps incredibly deeply. It was as Hange had said; everyone is processing it differently. By the end of the day, you had managed to find some comfort in the company of your friends. You friends excluding Eren, that is. Something dark and unsettling had cast a shadow on his features during the ceremony. Perhaps you would have chalked it up to grief if you hadn’t seen your own concerns mirrored in the others’ faces, Mikasa and Armin especially.

You sigh yet again and crawl off the bed, padding barefoot to your chest of clothes. You pull your sleeveless cotton nightshift from amongst your things and tug it over your head, enjoying the way the soft fabric kisses your naked skin as it falls into place. With that, you sit at your desk and pick up your vial of rosewater. It sits on your desk like a tome, a relic of your life before you were a soldier. Tonight, you decide it’s worth dabbing some into your palm, then running it through your hair. You can’t say exactly why.

Then you begin the nightly ritual of one hundred strokes of your hairbrush.

_ One, two, three, four…. _

It’s getting long enough to braid, you realize before your thoughts drift away again. You bite your lip, distantly counting your strokes, as Eren’s hollow expression rises again to your mind’s eye.  _ Had he looked that way when they returned from the basement?  _ You ask yourself. No, he certainly hadn’t. It was only following the ceremony that you felt he had thoroughly slipped away. Surely something had happened, but with everything going on you never had the chance to ask.

_ Forty, forty-one, forty-two…. _

What’s next for you? What’s next for the Survey Corps? Hange mentioned observing your reaction to battle, perhaps with Eren and Armin creating a simulation of sorts. But beyond that? You can’t say for sure, but you’ve been itching for a chance to propose to Hange an expedition with the goal of reaching the sea. Certainly it’s long past time for humanity’s wings to once again venture beyond the limits of Wall Maria?

_ Seventy-six, seventy-seven, seventy-eight…. _

At last your meandering thoughts land on Levi. You’re not oblivious to the way your mouth sets in a frown and your chest tightens painfully. It’s hard to think of him without also thinking of his stony silences and the pointed way he refuses to look at you in meetings, in the mess hall, in the corridors of the barracks. The sense of solidarity  —  of togetherness  —  you experienced during the battle at Wall Maria was apparently the last taste of it you would get from him. He seems intent on finally, after everything, severing any personal ties to you.

_ Ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety _ —

The brush freezes mid-stoke against your hair. Someone’s knocking on the door.

“Just a minute,” you call softly, wondering if whoever it is could possibly hear you over the pouring rain.

You pull the brush to the ends of your hair and set it down, casting your eyes over the room in search of your robe. You see it draped over the footboard of your bed, but just as you rise to get it the door opens. You stop mid-stride, your hand raised to grasp the robe, and watch Levi step into your room and shut the door quietly behind him.

Your robe forgotten, you find you need to make a conscious effort to close your gaping mouth. Then, somewhat defiantly, you cross your arms over the thin fabric covering your breasts and narrow your eyes at him.

_ No point in knocking if you’re going to barge in anyway,  _ you’re prepared to say _.  _ The look on his face, however, makes you bite back the snarky comment.

He’s tired. You can tell from the dark circles under his eyes, more pronounced than usual, and you’re sure he hasn’t been sleeping. His insomnia has plagued him the whole time you’ve known him; you can only imagine how much worse it’s gotten following Erwin’s death.

You open your mouth to say — what? Your mind goes blank. Instead of speaking, you uncross your arms and resume your seat at your desk, your back to Levi. You tug your brush through your hair three more times, reaching a perfect one hundred strokes, and set it down with more force than necessary. You stare at it, noticing a few loose hairs caught in the bristles, and wait for Levi to say something, to calm the nerves festering in your belly.

You hear him adjust his stance behind you and, turning your head slightly to the left, see him now leaning against the door with his arms crossed. Though you can’t see them, you can feel his eyes on you.

“(Y/N),” he says at last.

Your eyes screw shut, something in the way your name sounds in his voice bringing a million buried emotions to the surface.

“Do you resent me?” he asks, his voice flat.

You open your eyes, but only to roll them tearfully. Yet in that moment you know that no, you absolutely do not resent him, not in the slightest. You should — in fact, you want to — but no matter how hard you try, no matter how angry you get, there’s simply nothing Levi could do to make you resent him.

And so you sigh, running a hand through your hair and turning in your chair to face him.

“Of course I don’t,” you say, though not warmly. “Is your ego truly so big?”

“This isn’t about my ego,” he replies evenly.

For a moment you simply look at him.

“How could I resent you?” you ask quietly, biting your lip. Levi’s expression changes, softening into something you’ve seen before but never quite been able to place. “You’ve given me plenty of reason over the years, you know, but somehow I can never bring myself to hate you.” Something compels you to go on, to let him know you understand what he’s really asking. “Especially with the serum,” you murmur, your eyes falling to your lap. “Whether you like it or not, Levi, I know you. And I understand why you did it.”  
You lift your gaze to find him raising an eyebrow. _Explain,_ the look requests of you.

You shake your head as if to say,  _ what is there to explain?  _ But you articulate your thoughts anyway, for your sake as much as his.

“I know that you see in those three something you had and lost,” you begin, referring to Eren, Armin, and Mikasa. “A little family like theirs. I understand.” You know you don’t need to mention Farlan’s and the girl Isabel’s names for him to know what you mean. “Sometimes...sometimes I see it in them too. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin I mean. The hope they harbor is kept alive by each other. I had a family before I knew you too, you know. I remember what that’s like, that hope.” You shut your eyes. “I like to think…I used to think I could find it in you. If you’d let me.”

Levi stays silent for a moment, as if digesting what you said.

“Would you cry for me?” he then asks in a tone as casual as if he were commenting on the rain.

You laugh without mirth, turning your gaze to Levi’s face. He’s as serious as you’ve ever seen him, his eyes calculating, but you know he’s thinking of the way you cried over Erwin’s body in Shiganshina.

“What would I even have left without you?” you ask as if the answer is obvious, though clearly — to him, at least — it’s not. “No, I wouldn’t cry.” You stand and watch Levi’s jaw clench. The comment clearly stings. “If I were to lose you, too — or, lose whatever we have now,” you say, correcting yourself with some bitterness, “I would have nothing left. There would be no point in crying anymore.”

You cross your arms again and look at the rain running down the window in rivulets.

Levi simply  _ tsks _ .

Suddenly, anger flares up within you. His stubborn denial of his feelings, his stoicism, the way he’s crawled to your bedroom tonight only to stand there and brood, all inject your veins with a poisonous rage. 

“Why are you acting like you don’t  _ know _ ?” you demand, reeling around to face him “Everything I do I do for you. Every day I keep fighting for you. Because thanks to you, all this time, I’ve had a purpose.” You grind your teeth and take a deep breath, steadying your voice. “You’ve been there for me in a way no one else ever has. After everything we’ve been through, after the way I went to you that night with my heart on my sleeve, you come to me now and ask if I resent you?” You step towards him and stab his chest with your finger. He looks at you curiously. “For some reason, despite your shitty personality, the horrible ways you’ve treated me, and the fact that you’re so fucking short, I’ve fallen completely in love with you.”

The word seems to make the space between you come alive with an electric charge. Levi stares at you with wide eyes. Your finger is still digging into his chest and your lower lip has begun to tremble. You struggle to keep your emotions in check, curling your hand into a fist against his chest. Your shoulders slump and you can’t tell if you want to hit him or kiss him or shove him out the door and cry.

He remains silent, his heart beating gently beneath your fist.

“I’m just so tired, Levi,” you whisper thickly, finally meeting his silver eyes with your own.

Levi unfolds his arms and reaches up to gently grasp your shoulders. You’re rooted to the spot as he runs his hands down the lengths of your arms.  _ Say something!  _ You want to scream. He grips you tighter and you step back, letting your hand fall from his chest. He steps forward, again closing the distance between you.

“Levi—” you begin, sadly, but you’re interrupted by his mouth crashing over yours.

You let out a muffled yelp against his lips and half expect him to pull away. He doesn’t, instead pressing his mouth more firmly against yours, enough so that it’s almost painful. His hands find their way to your hips, then your waist, then your back and down again, as if he can’t make up his mind as to which part of you to cling to. You’re startled by his forcefulness, but despite it your hands move seemingly of their own accord up to the back of his head, your fingers lacing through his hair.

You allow yourself to give into the kiss for just a moment, to marvel in the feeling of his lips, a feeling you’d long since pushed back to the recesses of your memories. His mouth moves against yours enticingly, but you use your grip on his hair to pull his face from yours.

He resists, leaning in again to pepper your mouth with fervent kisses. You turn your head but don’t exert the effort to free yourself, completely torn as to what to do. He turns his attention to your jaw, your ear, your neck. You suppress a shiver, your breaths beginning to come in pants.

“Say it back,” you breathe.

He responds only by moving his hands to the curve of your behind and pulling your hips flush against his. You gasp, relishing the feeling of something warm and lush coming alive at your core. But your resolve is ironclad and this time, you plant your hands on his chest and shove him hard enough that he stumbles backwards.

“Say it, Levi,” you order, your chest heaving.

The rain hasn’t let up. The air hangs heavy with the humidity that crept in through your formerly open window and the unnameable tension between you and Levi. Your feet are planted shoulder width apart, your nightshift somewhat askew. You see the start of a flush creeping up the ivory skin of Levi’s neck, even half a meter away from him.

Then he catches your wrist and tugs you back against him, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as yours. You squirm away, your hair falling in your face and the skin of your decolletage flushing a deep red from the ardor coursing through you. Levi’s eyes are dark with lust. You can tell, however, that he’s hell bent on keeping his mouth shut.

“Fucking admit it,” you say desperately as Levi once again pulls you against him, this time fisting his hand in your hair in a way that is not at all unfamiliar. “Admit it or walk away, Levi,” you gasp, your head tilting back slightly from the force of his grip.

“Argh!” he groans, exasperated, and his mouth crashes back onto yours. “I love you, okay?” he growls between kisses. “Fuck, I fucking love you.”

You could cry, you could scream, you could laugh, but you do none of that, simply melting against him and finally returning his heated kisses. You moan as his hands slide against the fabric of your nightshift to the backs of your thighs, where he uses the leverage to hoist you up. Your legs wrap around his waist as he steps to the far wall, slamming you against it without ceremony. You moan again and catch his lower lip between your teeth in retaliation.

Levi gasps and you throw your head back to expose your neck and catch your breath. He plants one, two, three open-mouthed kisses on the smooth skin before gently lowering you so your feet find the floor. Your lips part and your hot breath mingles with his as he rests his forehead against yours, planting his hands on the wall at either side of your head. His eyes are a scorching, smoky gray.

“(Y/N),” he says your name in a low, lascivious voice.

Your name on his lips causes your insides to unfurl with a molten longing. Any shreds of doubt, any anger or despair, flee your mind at the sound of your name, riding the puffs of breath his lips emit mere centimeters from yours. With your hands firm on his neck, your back arches reflexively to press your breasts against the hard plains of his chest. He kisses your jaw and his hands slide from the wall down the length of your torso to your hips, where he gathers the fabric of your nightshift up to expose your thighs.

Somewhere far off, another roll of thunder reverberates through the ground up the walls, shaking the window in its frame. You notice Levi's fringe has fallen into his left eye and, with a kind, careful gesture starkly contrasting the promiscuity of your current situation, you brush the hair away.

Levi shudders at the feel of your fingertips brushing his forehead.

“Is this what you want?” he asks through a thin veil of control, in a voice that almost cracks. But not quite.

His lips hover just over your skin and his hands flit delicately over your hips, as if he’s suddenly afraid you’ll shatter beneath his touch, like glass. Like something precious.

“Yes,” you say, and the word sounds almost like a sob. “Yes, this is what I want.”

He again catches your lips with his, softly this time, and coaxes your mouth open to slide his tongue against yours. This kiss is different then the others, less feverish and more tender, as if he’s trying to communicate something his words cannot.

Your heart swells and a thick, affectionate emotion lodges itself in your throat. Your hands abandon their task halfway through the buttons of his shirt so you can run them through his hair, down his neck, and then under the fabric and down his shoulder blades. The simple fact of your closeness to Levi makes you feel as if everything has amounted to this — here, tonight — in a moment of fulfillment and gratification. Your patience with him, your deep understanding of your shared struggles, the ebb and flow of your togetherness, has all finally reached a precipice. Finally, you’ve voiced the words that have been stuck behind your lips for all this time. You’ve reached the tipping point.

Levi turns his attention to your bare shoulder, using his teeth to lower the thin strap of your nightshift so his hands don’t have to leave your hips. Your mouth falls open and your head leans back as he runs his teeth over the skin.

“Do you know,” he says against your shoulder, “how difficult it was to restrain myself when you walked around the house in this thing?”

You gasp audibly, as much at his words as his actions. He hikes the skirt up to your waist, leaving you entirely exposed beneath it, and grips your behind in his strong hands. Your body responds almost against your will as you roll your hips against the growing bulge in his pants.

“Walls,” he moans, his mouth on the place where your shoulder meets your neck, “if I had known there was nothing underneath…”

He lets the sentence trail off as he lifts his face to kiss you, his fingernails digging into your skin. The feeling sets you alight, desire blooming deep in your muscles in response to the sharp pain mingling with the pleasure of his touch.

Levi uses his grip on you to pull you away from the wall and lead you to the bed. You match his steps, walking backwards, and keep your hands on any part of him you can reach. When the backs of your knees hit the mattress, he lifts you onto it and crawls over you, only briefly breaking the wet, sensual kiss.

Your hands can’t get enough of him — they run from his back to his shoulders and up his neck to weave through his hair. Levi’s have abandoned their hold on your hips and behind, now running over your nightshift to tease your nipples through the fabric. They quickly harden beneath his touch and the place between your thighs grows warmer and wetter.

Then he pulls away, sitting back on his heels and removing his shirt. You take in the sight of his sculpted torso hungrily, adjusting your legs so you have him between your thighs. You bite your lip, unaware of doing so, and Levi’s eyes grow dark. He growls, exhales a single, hot breath of air and forces your nightshift up to your armpits, freeing your breasts. Eagerly, you lift your arms over your head and your shoulders rise from the bed. He tugs the fabric off you so violently you hear it tear. Your head falls back onto the mattress and your hair settles in your face.

“I swear to God,” growls Levi, catching you wrists in his hands and pinning them over your head, “I can’t stand seeing you bite your lip.”

He sinks his teeth into it without warning, not hard enough to break the skin but enough for you to release a muffled cry of pain. The action only succeeds in turning you more wanton, every inch of your skin aflame.

Without releasing your wrists, keeping them now beside your ears, Levi lowers his face to your chest to ravage your breasts. His lips, tongue, and teeth take turns on your erect nipples, teasing you mercilessly. You writhe beneath him, aching for some friction between your legs.

“Fuck,” you swear, your wrists straining beneath his iron grip, “Let me go. I want to touch you.”

Levi lifts his eyes to meet yours and you all but see the rebuttal forming on his moist lips. He furrows his brow, however, and stays silent, releasing your wrists. Your hands find their way straight to his back, then his shoulders, your nails dragging a path along his skin. Levi nips your left bud and you moan, grinding your center against his erection. He sucks it once, hard, and lets it go with a  _ pop.  _ When he lifts his face to hover over yours you move your hands to run over his chest and abdomen, lower and lower over the toned muscles—

Their path is interrupted when your attention turns to the pointer and middle finger of Levi’s left hand probing at your closed mouth. You look at him, your cheeks flushed pink with arousal.

“Suck.”

Your lips part more from surprise than obedience. Levi wastes no time inserting his fingers into your mouth so they glide along your tongue. You consider briefly the idea of pulling away, at odds with the thought of giving into him so easily. But walls, the look in his eyes is ruinous, and your body betrays you as your lips close around his fingers, pulling them in past the knuckles until the tips graze your throat.

Levi’s gaze, fixated on your mouth, turns predatory. Your tongue swirls over his fingers, coating them so thoroughly that when he pulls them free a string of saliva follows.

As Levi adjusts, your right leg now between his, his chest settled on your breast, you imagine he must be experiencing a silent war over the messiness of sex. A cheeky smile rises to your lips.

“Something funny?” he breathes, his lips brushing your ear.

You open your mouth to say something snide, but the words escape you as Levi’s wet fingers slide along the slick folds of your sex.

“You’re dripping,” he breathes, a pleasant sort of surprise in his voice.

Your only response is to lift your left leg, the one not trapped beneath him, bending it upwards to allow his hand easier access. His touches — slow and deliberate — send currents of pleasure coursing down to the tips of your toes.

You clutch at his shoulders, your hips betraying you and grinding against his hand, desperate for more friction. Levi seems intent on drawing out your pleasure, however, because his ministrations grow lighter and slower the more you show him you want it. That, the feeling of his erection against your hip, and the hot trail of his lips against your throat are enough to send you spiraling with yearning.

“Fucking hell,” you cuss again, the futility of your movements frustrating you. “Give me something—”

Levi plunges his middle finger into you, making you gasp. You arch against him, rolling your hips to meet his movements. He keeps them slow and sure, pulsing his finger in and out of you torturously. The heel of his hand presses against your clit and you feel as if that alone could send you over the edge.

And then his forefinger slides in as well. You can’t restrain the moan that escapes you. Levi responds by biting down on the pulsepoint beneath your jaw and, God, if it left a mark you wouldn’t care, you can’t believe he’s already so close to making you unravel.

Then he shifts, trailing his mouth over your collarbone, the curve of your breast, your belly, and down between your thighs. You watch his progress with hooded eyes, shocked, truthfully, that a man like Levi is putting his face between your legs.

He uses his free hand to press your leg up from behind the knee. You eagerly raise the other to join the first, fearful he otherwise would cease his attentions on your soaked sex to push it there himself. And then his mouth is hovering over you, his eyes trained on your face. You feel his breath against you and it’s electrifying and tantalizing all at once. You could buck your hips against his face, as lewd as it would be, but you know he would hold it against you, using it as an excuse to tease you further.

His fingers are still slowly pulsing in and out. You want to say something, plead with him to help you chase your release — you can feel it coiled in your belly, building steadily. But somewhere along the way this turned into a battle of wills. Levi is in the position of power and you refuse to give him more leverage than he already has.

And so you look at him, struggling to keep your hips still. Your hands rest on the bed by your shoulders, one finding its way against your jaw. When you rest the pad of your forefinger against your lip you see a change in Levi’s face, passing across it only briefly, but it’s enough to suggest to you that when you bite down on your lip — pointedly, this time — it will get results

Levi doesn’t hesitate. Suddenly his face is buried between your thighs as the flat of his tongue runs up and down your folds. Your hands card themselves in his hair and you can’t resist the urge to roll your hips against him, grinding into his mouth.

He hooks his fingers inside you as if he knows exactly how you need to be touched. Your muscles clench deliciously around him, the combination of the pressure of his fingers and the wetness of his mouth driving you closer and closer to the edge.

You throw your head back as you come, your mouth falling open in a silent cry of pleasure. Levi’s left hand wraps firmly around your thigh but his attention on your sex doesn’t cease. As you come down from your orgasm you squirm against him, seeking a chance to breathe. But Levi throws his arm over your belly, pinning you in place, and his fingers and tongue work faster, harder, and then he’s sucking on your clit and the coil is taut and your pleasure is again mounting.

“Oh, fuck,” you say loudly, and your wrist flies up to cover your mouth as you writhe against Levi’s face.

He fingers you relentlessly, pushing and pulling in and out of you faster and harder. You come on his hand again, biting down on your own arm to stifle your cries and moans. You can’t see a thing and you’re not sure if your eyes are closed or you’re just too high on the peak of pleasure to see.

“Please,” you beg finally.

That one word frees you. Levi relaxes his hold on your waist and your legs collapse onto his back, momentarily weak from your orgasms. He lifts his face first, then slowly lets his fingers slide out of you. You swipe your hair off your face and find several strands stuck to your forehead with sweat. Levi again crawls over you, suspended by his forearms, and kisses you sweetly, his lips wet with your arousal. You shut your eyes and pull him closely against you, inhaling his familiar scent.

Despite his flirtations you can feel the way Levi’s careful attention to the flesh of your breasts, your hardened nipples, the slit between your thighs, throbbing with need, was his way of telling you everything he can’t put into words. His tender touches and devotion to your pleasure speak volumes.

“Take your pants off,” you murmur against his mouth.

Your eyes flutter open to find Levi’s eyebrows raised.

“Eager for more?” he asks, almost smirking.

“Yes,” you say, planting a slow kiss just beneath his jaw. “Stop being coy and fuck me already.”

The playfulness leaves Levi’s face to be replaced again with the shadow of desire. He nips at your earlobe and then kneels between your legs to undo his belt. You simply watch as he pulls down his pants and underwear in one efficient though not-so-graceful motion. His erection springs free and your lips part, your lust climbing again at the sight of his length. He disgards his clothing on the floor and you give him a questioning look. He ignores it, instead resuming his position on top of you, the lengths of your bodies pressed deliciously against each other.

You meet his mouth with yours in a hungry kiss, your lips quickly parting to admit his tongue. He grinds against you and the length of his hardness runs along your sex. You moan against his mouth and lift your legs to wrap around his slim waist. Without breaking the kiss, Levi reaches down to grasp himself, running the tip first over your clit and then your entrance.

You shiver beneath him, digging your nails into his shoulders. He moves his mouth down your jaw and to your throat, murmuring your name. You roll your hips, a silent plea for him to take you.

He grins against your neck, savoring the slick feel of you against him.

“Levi, please,” you moan, now made shameless by your need.

His grin disappears and he groans, a deep, low rumbling in his chest. His cock moves along your wet folds.

“Say it again.”

He interrupts his feverish kisses on your neck to drag his teeth along the skin of your throat, making you gasp.

“Say my name.”

“Levi,” you moan into his ear.

He enters you suddenly, sinking his entire length inside you slowly. You exhale sharply at the initial pain of the intrusion, but it quickly gives way to an insurmountable pleasure. Your heels hook behind his back as you clutch Levi fiercely to you. His lips find yours and your tongues slide against each other wetly. Your muscles clench around his length and Levi hums deeply. You feel so  _ full _ , Levi filling every inch of you.

Slowly, Levi moves, pulling out to the tip before sinking back into you languidly. Your moans are unrestrained, undignified, and lustful. You don’t care. You’re too caught up in the feeling of him, wrapped around you in a hot, sensual embrace. Your hands glide along his back, moist with sweat, as he moves again, and again, and again.

Levi breaks the kiss to run his tongue down your jaw and to the shell of your ear, succeeding only in heightening your pleasure. It takes immense effort not to mewl loudly enough that everyone in the barracks would hear. But Levi can, and he adjusts his rhythm to thrust into you harder, though without quickening his pace. You begin lifting your hips to meet him halfway, yearning for the feeling of his cock buried inside you, ramming into the deepest part of you with such a hot, molten pleasure you could—

“I’m going to come,” you moan, your eyes screwing shut and your mouth falling open.

“Then come,” Levi orders against your ear.

The next time he rams into you, the crack of flesh against flesh loud and primal, you come violently, your legs quivering against him.

“ _ Levi _ ,” you cry, delirious with pleasure.

You grind against him, seeking more, and he delivers, finally quickening his pace in delicious increments. You come again as he fucks you faster, harder into the mattress, the lengths of your bodies sliding against each other, slick with sweat. His hands are fisting into your hair, pulling at you with an animalistic need, and you come around him for a third time, crying out wordlessly.

And then he pulls out abruptly, resting his hips on your torso and releasing ribbons of white onto your belly. He groans into your neck, his shoulders heaving with exertion and his breaths coming in hot puffs against your skin. You run your hands through his hair, breathing heavily as he comes down from the high of his release.

You lay that way for several minutes, the sound of the rain on the roof resounding. After a moment he kisses your neck gently and lifts his face to yours, pressing your foreheads together as he had earlier.

“Levi,” you say quietly, that lump of emotion back in your throat, “I love you.”

He kisses you tenderly, his lips tasting like sweat, sex, and Levi, and you know that he does, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated E for this chapter, LOL
> 
> We finally made it, kids. I hope it was worth the wait.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone, I'm back. Thank you for having me.
> 
> I've spent a lot of time thinking on whether or not I'm going to continue this fic through season 4 of the anime, and while I have SO many ideas and am SO flattered by how many of you expressed interest, I think I'll be sticking with my original plan and wrapping things up in 32 chapters, with the events that conclude season 3. I don't have as much time to write as I did early in quarantine and would hate to make you wait weeks or months for updates, or even wind up abandoning the fic before it ends (heavens forbid).
> 
> All that being said, I love each and every one of you for showing your support in all its shapes and forms, and I hope you enjoy the final chapter of Part Three!

You wake up the next morning on your back, your head turned towards the wall.

Sometime during the night, the storm broke. Now, the first light of dawn is peeking through your window, caressing your face and shoulders. Beneath the blankets you’re still naked, having fallen asleep not long after the…activities you and Levi engaged in.

You feel frozen in place. You think back to that night before you enlisted in the Cadet Corps, the first night you slept beside Levi. You had awoke to find him long gone, likely having left even before sunrise. Now, through the haze of your morning grogginess, you don’t sense the dip in the mattress, or the evenness of his breathing. You simply feel a nervous anticipation for what you might find when you turn your head.

When you shuffle to your side — after several beats of deliberation — you’re met with Levi’s sweet, sleeping face. You’re struck, not for the first time, by how young he looks this way. With a face like his it’s nearly impossible to place his age, but seeing him like this he could be young; as young as you, even. A smile rises unbidden to your lips as you take in the sight of him. He’s asleep on his side, his breaths coming long and even, the better part of his torso exposed above the blankets. You ache to reach out and touch him, to run your hands through his hair and caress his jaw, but you content yourself with simply looking, unwilling to disturb him just yet.

“Are you in the habit of staring at your lovers as they sleep?” Levi murmurs suddenly.

You blush slightly, caught red-handed. Your attention is drawn to his smooth lips as he formulates the words tiredly, his eyes not once cracking open. Despite yourself, your smile widens.

“I’m simply surprised to find you stuck around all night,” you decide to admit truthfully.

“Tch,” is Levi’s only response.

His eyes crack open part way so he can look at you. His brows furrow at the sight of your gentle smile. Without comment, he shifts over to his other side, his back to you.

You roll your eyes up to the ceiling good-humoredly and adjust so you’re facing the wall, the way you woke up. There’s an hour at least before you need to get up to get dressed. Perhaps you’ll catch a bit more sleep.

Your eyes are just drifting shut as Levi lifts the blankets and moves over, jostling your side of the bed.

“Hey,” you say, mildly irked by the disruption.

Then Levi slings an arm over your waist and tugs you to him, your back against his chest. Your eyes fly open in surprise. It passes quickly, however, as you settle against him, enjoying the way your body seems to mold perfectly against his. He’s warm and you can smell subtle traces of his comforting, clean scent on the skin of his wrist where it lies near your face. You lift your arm tentatively, resting it over his and lacing your fingers together.

To your relief, he doesn’t resist. In fact, he responds by burying his face into your hair and placing a firm kiss on the back of your head. That smile creeps back onto your features.

“From now on,” Levi mutters against your hair, “I’ll stay the night.”

Your lips part at his words. They were simply stated, and yet to you they hold so much weight.  _ I’m not going anywhere _ , he may as well have said. He’s done running away.

You draw the hand you hold to your lips and delicately kiss his wrist, seizing the opportunity to inhale more of his scent, a scent that you may never forget as long as you live.

Levi draws you closer against him, this time kissing your shoulder. You adjust yourself somewhat, positioning his forearm between the fold of your breasts.

“Hm,” he hums contentedly.

For several minutes your lay folded against each other, enjoying the feel of his naked skin against yours in a comforting, companionable way. But then you adjust your hips just so, not even intentionally, and feel his erection against your behind.

Something about the way he seems to be happy just lying with you — regardless of it — makes you want it more. Your own desire awakens in your core, just slightly, and you turn over so you’re facing each other. You press your breasts against his chest, where your back just was, and sling your arm over his shoulders to caress the back of his neck in your hand.

It’s only once you drape your leg over his hips, drawing him against you, that he opens his eyes. His desire is apparent in the way he looks at you, but it’s you who presses your lips against his.

“We don’t have to,” he murmurs into the kiss.

“I know.”

The kiss deepens, quickly turning heated, and Levi’s hand slides down your back to cup your behind. You respond by rolling your hips against his, running your fast-moistening sex against his erection. He breaks the kiss, hissing with pleasure.

Then he’s on top of you, as he was last night, positioned between your thighs. There’s a mutual understanding that there’s no need to build up to it, not this time, and he positions his hips over yours, eager to enter you.

You nip at his collarbone as he presses the head of his cock to your entrance, already not needing to guide it with his hand. You gasp, enjoying the feel of it.

“Levi,” you whisper against his temple, and he pushes into you just an inch. “Levi, stop.”

He tenses immediately and rolls off of you, lying inches away on his back.

“Walls,” he says, running his hands down his face, “I’m sorry. Did I hurt—?”

His thought is interrupted as you hoist yourself up, straddling him. When you settle on his pelvis, dragging your slick wet folds over the length of him, he gasps, reaching out to grab at your hips. You plant your hands flat on his chest and rock back and forth once, twice, three times.

“Come on,” he growls, looking up at you impatiently. Any traces of concern in his voice have been replaced with yearning.

You cock an eyebrow and lift off of him just enough so he’s left longing for the friction you’re denying him. You feel coy, enjoying the game and the way the tables have turned from the night before.

“(Y/N),” he says through clenched teeth, “don’t play with me.”

“Or what?” you tease, running a finger up the curve of his throat to his jaw.

He doesn’t reply but one of his hands vanishes from your hip. Before you catch on to his intention it lands on your backside —  _ hard  _ — and the crack of flesh resounds throughout the room.

You jerk forward, inadvertently grinding against him. Levi’s eyes are dark with lust, mingled enticingly with mischief. Your gentle touch along his jaw turns to a vice like grip on his throat. Something about the way he hit you made that pool of desire in you turn molten, made your muscles clench deep within you. Your desire is so acute it makes you riotous.

You don’t hesitate. You lift your hips and slam down on his cock, sheathing his entire length. Levi groans audibly and his eyes screw shut with pleasure.  _ God _ , that one movement, the feel of him deep inside of you, initiates that mounting pleasure within you.

You move against him, rocking your hips wildly, nothing like the night before. Right now you want to be the one in charge, you want to be the one showing him how much you’ve wanted this. How long you’ve needed this.

Your ride him mercilessly. It’s not long before you’re toeing the edge of a quick-building orgasm. You drag your nails along his chest, leaving angry red marks in their wake. Levi doesn’t seem to care. He lifts a hand to spank you again, digging his fingers into your flesh to guide you harder and faster against him.

You’re about to come, you can feel it, you’re moaning and writhing. But then Levi bucks his hips, breaking your rhythm and jostling you onto the mattress.

“What—!”

Quick as a whip his muscles tense and he’s kneeling behind you. Without preamble he wrenches you up onto your hands and knees, your ass in the air before him and now it’s  _ him  _ slamming onto  _ you.  _ You gasp and moan at the ways this new position allows him to reach that much deeper inside you.

One hand abandons your hip to fist in your hair, pulling your head up so you have no choice but to look at him, your back arching. He’s fucking you hard, you’re going to come—

Someone knocks at the door.

You and Levi freeze, a cry dying in your throat. Your heart skips a beat and a sheet of terror wraps around you. If anyone were to find you like this—

“(Y/N)?”

It’s Hange.

Levi’s hand slams down over your mouth,muffling your voice. Then, he moves within you, out and in slowly, banishing the thought of Hange on the other side of the door.

“Get rid of her,” mutters Levi, his lips hot and wet on your throat. “Make her think you’re alone.”

He quickens his pace and parts his fingers just enough to free your mouth. You inhale shakily, knowing Hange is waiting for a reply but fearing a lustful moan will be all you’ll be able to manage.

Hange knocks again. “Are you still asleep?” she calls.

Levi bucks against you harder, and then the hand on your face trails down your torso, cupping your breast, and then settling over your sex, the pad of his middle finger on your clit. Your mouth falls open in a strained, silent cry.

“Oh,” he murmurs tensely, his own pleasure clearly mounting, “and don’t come yet.”

You bite down hard on your lip, actively clenching your muscles around him in retaliation. His gasp is a silent victory.

“No,” you call, making every effort to keep any exertion out of your voice, “I’m awake.”

“You all right?” comes Hange’s reply through the door. “You sound strange.”

“I’m fine!” you hasten to respond.

Levi’s finger moves against you, making you shiver.

“Ha!” you gasp, again forgetting Hange is within earshot.

“Hm,” Levi admonishes quietly, not ceasing the movements of his cock or his finger.

“Seriously, what’s wrong? I’m coming in,” Hange tells you, the sound of the rattling doorknob following her words.

“No!” you cry, your eyes screwed shut with lust, “I just stubbed my toe.” It’s a weak excuse but your mind is in a million different places. “I’m not dressed,” you try.

It works.

“Ah, if you say so,” says Hange distrustfully. “Pop by my office once you’re ready, okay?”  
Levi ruts into you, hitting that place inside you that sends shocks of pleasure throughout your body.

“Yes!” you cry out, then clear your throat and clench your teeth. “Okay, I will,” you try to recover.

It’s a moment before you hear Hange’s footsteps receding, as if she was debating whether or not to press further. Thank God for small mercies.

“Holy fuck,” swears Levi, picking up a pace that hits that place within you with each thrust. Your legs are quivering, his finger on your clit driving you nearly as mad as his cock. “Good girl.”

He bites down on your shoulder, fucking you with abandon.

“I — I can’t…” you stammer.

“Come,” Levi growls against your skin. “Come for me.”

You collapse into the mattress, the force of your orgasm making stars appear behind your eyes. You cover your mouth with your own hand, fighting to conceal your cries of ecstasy. The feeling of your muscles spasming with satisfaction around his length sends Levi to his own release, and he pulls out of you to come on your back, finally releasing your hair to brace himself on the bed.

Breathing hard, he lies down beside you, looking up at the ceiling. Fully spent, you drape a hand over his chest, unable to turn from your stomach to get a better look at him. After a moment he looks at you and brushes your damp hair away from your face.

“You have another towel or something?” he volunteers softly.

“Hm,” you mutter distractedly, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm, “yeah. Should be another clean rag on top of the chest.”

He gets up and you watch his progress across the room, admiring the way his naked body moves. He picks up the rag from the chest and walks back to the bed. You hold out a hand for it but Levi surprises you by gently wiping you down himself.

“Hm,” you hum again, “thanks.”

He doesn’t say anything as he tosses the rag to the floor in a very un-Levi like gesture.

“Oh,” you say, propping yourself up on your elbows, “it’s okay to make a mess when it’s my room?”

Levi smirks and the sight of his upturned lips makes your stomach flip-flop. It’s brief, however, and his expression turns stony as he runs his hands through your hair. The feeling is luxurious on your scalp.

“I have to get up,” you say reluctantly. “Hange’s expecting me.”

Levi scoffs. “She can wait.”

You sigh and swing your legs off the bed, shaking your head. “Maybe if I’m promoted to Captain next I can adopt that attitude.”

You make your way to the desk and run your hairbrush quickly through your hair; there’s certainly not enough time to wash it. In fact, there’s hardly enough time for a shower at all. Moving quickly now, you toss on your robe and gather up your towel.

“I need to—”

“(Y/N)—”

You and Levi begin speaking at the same time. Something in his expression makes you forget your shower.

“What is it?” you ask, feeling a pit of anxiety forming in your stomach.

“I…” he tries, quickly trailing off. 

You look at him, waiting patiently for him to gather his thoughts. He’s still sitting naked in your tousled bed, his chest mildly flushed from the physicality of your early morning tumble.

“I don’t know… Shit, I’m no good at this,” he says clearly aggravated with himself. “Can you help me out here?”

He’s almost pouting. You walk up to him and brush his hair from his face with the fingers of your free hand. They trail down his cheek and his chin, lifting his face so he’s forced to meet your eye.

“No,” you tell him, not unkindly. “Tell me what you need to say, Levi.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t know where to go from here,” he admits, and you’re floored by his forwardness.

You stand frozen, your hand still on his chin. What are you supposed to say to that?

He puts his hand over yours, pulling it from his face and holding it against his chest.

“I…” his eyes fall to the floor and back up to your face. “I’ve never stuck around before,” he forces out eventually.

“Levi,” you breathe, slouching to kiss his forehead. He puts his other hand possessively on your waist. “I’m as lost as you are,” you confess. “We’ll have to take it day by day.”

“Hmph,” he grumbles, but you can tell from the way his thumb glides over the back of your hand that he’s satisfied with your response.

You place a second tender kiss on his cheek.

“I love you,” you whisper into his ear, so quietly he might not hear.

Levi turns his head and kisses your lips sweetly and briefly. Before pulling away he says the words even lower than you, simply mouthing them into your kiss.

_ I love you too. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll see you at the epilogue <3


	32. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I have to say is thank you.  
> To everyone who read, left kudos, commented, shared, recommended, gave it a try and abandoned, scrolled past before picking something else to read: THANK YOU.  
> Whether you’ve been following since the prologue or jumped in at its completion, thank you.  
> Sincerely from the bottom of my heart.  
> I started the earliest drafts of this fic nearly a year ago, when my city was hit worst by Covid and I suddenly had way too much free time on my hands. Since then it has turned into something so much more rewarding and fulfilling than a way to pass the time and it’s all thanks to YOU.  
> Please enjoy the epilogue. It was a pleasure sharing this fic with you.  
> Xoxo,  
> Catherine Abandon

The sea.

It’s strange and familiar all at once. The memories that flooded your head when you came in contact with the Beast Titan didn’t do it justice. What stuns you the most is the line where the water kisses the sky. Have you ever seen so much water? Before now, it was simply unfathomable.

The sand beneath your boots is clean and white, dotted with dried seaweed and fragmented seashells. You kneel down, expecting it to feel like dirt but no, it’s finer and softer and when you scoop it up in your hands it easily escapes through the cracks in your fingers.

A ways down the beach, Jean, Sasha, and Connie have already waded in, splashing around excitedly. Nearby, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin have followed suit, though they’re characteristically more subdued. You smile at the sound of Levi scolding Hange for grabbing at unknown objects in the water.

It’s not long before you look up from the sand beneath you to again marvel at the water. The sun glistens off the surface as if it were made of crystal; it sparkles with the light in a way that makes it nearly too hard to look at. But you can’t tear your eyes away — you squint and take it in, basking in the way the push and pull of the tide lulls you into a state of serenity like nothing you’ve ever experienced.

You kneel in the sand for several minutes, gazing out across the water, wondering at the salty smell of the air, so poignant you can almost taste it, and the gentle roar of the small waves crashing onto the beach. And then a violent urge to feel it on your skin, to plunge your hands into it as you had into the sand, overtakes you. You scramble up and tear the forest green cloak from your shoulders, letting it flutter to the ground. Your eyes stay trained on the water as you yank off one boot, then the other, and wrench the legs of your pants as high up your legs as you can get them.

“(Y/N)?”

It’s Levi. You turn, but only briefly — the desire to feel the water rush over your feet is too strong to pay him any mind. You stride towards the water purposefully as, behind you, Levi lifts your cloak and shakes the sand off of it before draping it neatly over your horse’s saddle.

The consistency of the sand changes the closer you get to the water. It’s not wet and squishy like mud — you can still feel the individual grains between your toes. No; it feels like brown sugar. The thought makes you laugh out loud and your last few steps are energetic skips. You land in the water with a splash, up to your ankles, and it’s _cold_. You skitter backwards a step or two in surprise. Grinning, you squat down and place your hands flat in the sand, submerged beneath the water. Here, the sand is silken against your palms and the balls of your feet. You watch, transfixed, as the water's movement pulls small bits of sand over your hands with each ebb and flow of the tide. Eventually, if you stayed perfectly still, your hands and feet would be completely buried.

“Oi.”

Levi has made his way to the very edge of the water without you realizing. You lift your face to look up at him, still grinning in wonderment like a child. His sharp features and furrowed brow relax slightly, in a way you recognize to mean he’s pleased.

“Levi,” you say quietly. The smile falls from your lips.

And then you’re crying. Softly, not sobbing, but enough that tears leak from your eyes in gentle streams down your cheeks. You hurry to look away, back at your hands, but they’re blurred through your tears. When you lift them, the sand washes away with the water so they’re clean when they break the surface.

Your gaze is drawn again to the horizon line, now soft and out of focus through the tears welling in your eyes. The sunlight, too, is fading. You blink hard to clear your vision, but the beach is still dark, as if cast in immense shadow. Suddenly, something doesn’t feel right. 

Your blood runs cold, your heart rate quickens and your mouth turns dry. Then the mosquitos come, worse than ever before. They’re a swarm of angry, raging locusts, each one piercing your eardrums, inside your head, the backs of your eyes. Blindly you rise from your knees and stumble from the water and onto the beach, but the sensation is so overwhelming it’s not long before you’ve fallen back down onto all fours. You try to fight it, but the pressure is immense. You can hardly lift your head.

Finally, with great strain, you manage to tilt your face in the direction the sun should be, seaking its warmth. Through squinted eyes you search the beach for Levi. For Eren, Jean, Hange, or anyone. They’re gone.

When you look again towards the sky, you see the walls, marching towards you, flattening everything in their paths. The earth rumbles.

Then you jolt upright in bed, gasping for air. Your head is spinning as if you’ve taken your first breath of oxygen after hours on a mountaintop where the air is thin. You clutch at the fabric of your nightshift, frantic to slow your pounding heart. With a shaking hand you touch your cheek to find, like in your dream, that it’s wet with tears.

Swallowing thickly, you take in your surroundings. You’re in Levi’s room, and this fact alone calms you somewhat. The bed is awash with light from the weeping candlestick on his desk. He’s seated before it, his paperwork in neat piles, his shirt unbuttoned and his hair in slight disarray. This and the sweet ache between your legs serve as reminders of your lovemaking, hours ago by now. You estimate it must be well past midnight, perhaps even the earliest hours of the morning.

“You were thrashing around again,” says Levi. “Just now.”

You meet his eye and, though his mouth is set in a firm line, his piercing gaze demands that you tell him you’re all right.

In truth, you’re not sure you are.

“Every night,” you tell him in a small voice, at last wiping away your tears. “Every night since we first went to the coast.”

He doesn’t say anything, but after a moment he sets his pen down and moves to sit beside you on the bed. You study his face as he focuses on your hair and runs a hand through it in a comforting gesture. He looks troubled. You wish desperately to reassure him, to ease his concerns. The words die in your throat.

Instead you raise your arm to trace the exposed skin of his chest with your fingers. They move down to his ribs, over the markings left by his gear. Twins of your own. His eyes darken as his pupils dilate in response to your featherlight touch. His hand moves from your hair to your breasts, then down to your hips. Soon he’s hovering over you, supported on his forearms, and leaving trails of hot kisses down your neck.

The dance is familiar by now. You practice the steps; removing his clothes, letting him tug your nightshift over your head. You shiver when the cool air of the room kisses your bare skin, bumps rising on your arms.

You hold his gaze as he enters you, and Levi finds that he couldn’t tear his eyes from yours if he wanted to. Pulling him as tightly against you as you can, your noses brush and your breaths mingle. His hips rock against yours and you moan quietly. His lips find their way to your cheekbone, kissing away fresh tears.

 _Freedom,_ you think, _used to mean sunlight. It used to mean fresh air and grass and the sky._ Your mouth falls open as Levi’s thrusts reach deeper and deeper. You rest your forehead against his, weaving your hands through his hair. _Then it was a world with no walls, a world with choices and a will of my own._

Levi kisses you softly, in contrast to the need with which he thrusts into you. 

The kiss tastes like salt, as if your tears were the sea within you, welling up through your eyes with the tide.

 _Maybe it’s a person_ , you ponder as your orgasm washes over you, and you clutch Levi ever tighter against your heart.

 _Or maybe_ — Levi shudders and you gasp, feeling the warmth of his end fill you — _maybe it is my blessing and my curse to chase freedom all my life._

* * *

For you, 2,000 years from now.


End file.
